Save Me From December
by Seth da Hooded Bandit
Summary: A pathetic whore, like himself, getting injected with drugs in an alleyway doesn't sound like a lucky break, but he'd be surprised what miracle finds him. Rated M for language, yaoi, torture, ect. FrUK, RusAme, GerIta, Spamano, PruCan, minor USUK.
1. The Beggar on the Streets

**Author's Note: **I'll be writing this story alongside "Little Bird", so it's not like I'm just stopping the story to write this. For now, the content is rated T, but there will be chapters will the M will definitely be used. Just a heads up. :)

**Chapter Song: **"The A-Team" by Ed Sheeran (also the inspiration for this story)

* * *

The crisp December air grasped cruelly at the streets of New York City, forcing the city-dwellers under it's harsh wintery wake. The unblinking, forlorn faces of the individuals that huddled together in the cold were never memorable, and seemed invisible to the others around them...though they were very much the same.

However, one face seemed different from the usual crowds that flooded the upper-class tailored streets: Arthur Kirkland. He was shivering against a brick wall, clutching the too-thin coat around his shoulders, trying to fight a possible case of hypothermia. His trembling and blueing fingers gripped lightly at the bucket sitting next to him, trying to have a half-decent grip on it's rim.

Once again, the day had been unsuccessful, only a measly five dollars and twenty five cents were earned, no...more like given to him, from sitting on the disgusting concrete ground and groveling like a beggar. It was a pitiful state, but he couldn't help it...his options were limited. However, due to today's disappointing turnout, he'd have to head back to his apartment and get ready to go to the Underbog later that evening.

Arthur hated the Underbog with a burning passion. However, despite the wickedness and lack of decency, it was also the location of his secret second job. The blond wished that he could just abandon his position there, but he'd have no money and eventually starve himself to death. Looking down to his slightly raised palm, he noticed the gleaming of insufficient sunlight against the ring on his third finger. Perhaps if he were to pawn the object, then he would do alright for a little while...not that he would ever find the strength and heart to do such a task. The band on his finger served as a reminder as to why he was out here, suffering from hardship and loneliness on the harsh New York City streets and slums; why he was having to rely on soup kitchens for a constant resource of food and why he had to sell his own body during the night hours to pay the damned rent and keep him living. Arthur knew that if his former-fiancé had seen him like this, wretched and weak, he knew damn well that he would regret breaking his heart and kicking him out like a rat that had invaded a restaurant.

Left only with sunken eyes, gaunt limbs, and hollowed cheekbones; along with the scars that littered him internally and externally, Arthur felt like a ragged scrap of a human. There was nothing good, physically or socially good about him anymore...and it had grown into an outrageous self-consciousness and bad self-esteem. His brain would remind him that there were individuals on the famous streets, looking down at him in pity and disgust at his less to be desired features: stringy and messy pale ash blond hair, and a pair of paled green eyes that had lost the life within them months ago. Along with several cartilage ear piercings, there was nothing interesting about the man. To most, he just looked like another sorry bum whose's life had taken a turn for the worst.

Some gracious individuals had felt sorry for him, and gave away part of their on-hand cash to him, while others simply laughed at his worthless existence that had begun only three months ago.

A shadow had fallen on him, and his reprogrammed brain forced his hand raise the small pail and hope that a person would be kind enough to help him. He thanked the individuals who did, and told them that God would bless he or she...not that he actually believed in God anymore. However, this time, before his fingers could twitch to life and raise his little bucket, a voice broke through the quiet air present in the streets.

"Arthur? Is that you?"

Raising his head, his green orbs met blue eyes and slicked back blond hair. He managed a small smile onto his lips. It was Ludwig, an old friend of his. The two had been friends as children and worked together in their teenage jobs. Every so often, Arthur would receive a call from the man, and the two would talk about childhood memories and their wishes to return to those years...hoping that they weren't simply been looking at life through rose-colored glass.

Standing to greet his friend, Arthur dipped his head slightly and grinned, "You look well, Ludwig."

The taller man replied, "It's good to see you, Arthur. Unfortunately, I'd be lying if I said that you looked well..." He scratched behind the shell of his ear, most likely hoping he hadn't been too rude to the man. However, that was Ludwig for you, ever so honest.

The smaller blond chuckled half-heartedly, "I know. I must look like such a wreck."

Ludwig only replied a small grunt, and reached into his coat pocket for a small carton of cigarettes. Opening it, he pulled out a pair and offered one to Arthur. The smaller man immediately claimed it, and stuck it in his lips, to which Ludwig lit it for him. The two old friends had their backs to the bricks, and enjoyed a couple long drags from their cigarettes before they began to converse once again. Ludwig had explained that Arthur looked like a cigarette was what he needed.

Then, the man asked, "How's Alfred? Are the two of you married yet?"

Feeling his spine freeze at the question, Arthur only managed to reply with a barely-audible whisper, "He left me."

Ludwig's mouth dropped open slightly, and he answered, his voice filled with disbelief, "_He left you?_ But the two of you were together for three years!"

Arthur snarled, the words like venom on his tongue, "One of those years were spent with some other man behind my back." Releasing a harsh drag of cigarette smoke out of anger, he choked slightly on it and hissed at the stupid action.

His friend gave him a pitiful glance, "_Tut mir leid_, Arthur. You're better than he'll ever be."

Arthur growled, "Well, I certainly don't feel like it."

Despite the pessimistic claim, Ludwig replied, "At least you still have some sense though. You look somewhat healthy." When the smaller man didn't answer him, he raised and eyebrow and asked, "You are staying healthy, right?"

In all honesty, Arthur Kirkland was probably pretty far from healthy. Not only was he relying on his food from a soup kitchen, he had picked up a nasty drug habit and it was rare not to see him at the pubs in the early hours in the morning. On top of all that, with all the sex (most of it unprotected, and his boss's checkings with the clients were pretty shady) that he had been partaking in, it was more than likely that he had already been inflicted with some kind of sexually transmitted disease. However, should he suffer from a health problem, there was nothing to make him fight and continue to live.

He'd already lost everything that was dear to him: his job, his love, his home, and his hope. All he had left was a somewhat cheap apartment (about as cheap as an apartment in New York City could get) that was owned by his drunken older brother, Alleric. Well, he owned it...but he never actually paid for it. His older brother barely ever came home, due to all the bar-hopping he went on with his drinking friends, who usually let him stay over at one of their places. The drinking nights had become so frequent that Arthur had to begin paying the weekly rent. Since the pay was so expensive, having much more money left over was quite seldom for Arthur...and it would all be pooled into drinking and drugs. Arthur had tried gambling before, but all it had earned him was a three hundred and fifty dollar debt and a harsh beating from Alleric, who had to skip a few days of drinking in order to help his idiotic brother pay it all back, who had to endure four rounds of harsh sex in one night. If, by any luck, he did have some cash left...Arthur would put it towards getting a cheap new garment or having a better meal that just soup-kitchen food.

He said after a minute, "I'm as healthy as I can be."

Ludwig smiled a little, "That's good." His blue eyes dropped to the bucket present by the Brit's foot, and asked with a concerned frown on his face, "Don't tell me that you're living on the streets."

Arthur shook his head, "I have an apartment."

"The money's for support then?" It was a little scary to him that Arthur was succumbing to mere beggary in order to keep his life steady.

"I don't have a job, and I'm desperate for money, Ludwig."

"You could have asked for my help, Arthur. If I had known that you were living this way, I would have helped you sooner."

"You know I can't ask you to take me in, Ludwig. I'd be a freeloader...and I don't want to anchor down your happy life." The man managed a small smile, "You've got Feliciano to take care of, and if you showed up with someone like me..."

Ludwig sighed, returning a sad smile, "...he'd cry. I know." He then said, "But, please know...if you ever need anything, anything at all, you can come to the two of us."

Arthur nodded, "Thanks, old friend. I appreciate your concern."

Flicking the cigarette away, the German nodded, "You're welcome. Take care of yourself." Ludwig then turned, and headed back down the bleak streets, soon fading away into the forgettable New York faces. Once he was gone, Arthur nearly sank back down to his knees onto the cold stone. He wanted to so badly chase after Ludwig and accept the offer he had given him, but he'd be so selfish. But, he'd make his and Feliciano's life gloomier, and there would be no way to explain why he was out so late. He was already far too addicted to the alcohol and drugs, and he couldn't just walk out on his job at the Underbog. Any form of moderation had faded away by the end of the first month of his new life.

* * *

After another unsuccessful hour, he stood back up and buried the cash in his pocket. He'd have to either make much more tomorrow, or he'd have to work for longer hours at night. Taking the park route to get home, Arthur looked to the frost stained trees and the small sparrows that roosted comfortably without hesitation in their snow-filled nests. He envied them, they were made to endure the outdoors...even in the winter. Humans were not created to do so, and his sorry self had been sitting out in the cold ever since September. Now, it was December, the month that was supposed to be about holidays spent with family and friends. He nearly chuckled to himself at the irony, that he was like this during the "happiest time of the year". Arthur couldn't help but wonder if he would be doing the same thing during New Years.

Lost in thought, he nearly walked by a performer who was unknowingly charming a couple girls with his song...probably because he was playing it on a violin, instead of the typical guitar. Arthur strode up to listen, and as soon as he stopped near the man, the girls each dropped him five dollars into his hat and tossed him some compliments, before heading on their merry way.

From what Arthur could tell, the man was singing about missing his chance at winning the heart of the girl he loved, and now being left alone to rot in his mistake. The song was something to roll one's eye to, in Arthur's opinion.

Once the brown-haired man had finished playing, he gave a small smile to the blond, "Care to help a heartbroken man out?"

Arthur raised one of his eyebrows, and harshly laughed at him, "You call _that_ heartbreak? I was dumped three months ago and kicked out of my home. That whiny song you sing is just foolish, you've never experienced heartbreak."

The man hissed, "Well, I live by the principle _'it's better to have lost love than to have never loved before'_."

Arthur leaned down, meeting the eye-level of the man, who bore an obvious Austrian accent, "Try having found out that your love cheated on you with a wicked man, kicked you out onto the street, got fired from your job, begging during the day, selling your body at the Underbog at night...being cold and hungry for three months all while wishing your love would come back to you. That's the heartbreak I'm going through now. True story, damned git."

The man looked up at Arthur, clearly confused, "The...Underbog?"

He smirked, "I knew it. You speak that you're a poor bloke, but the blood running through your veins is blue. You know nothing of the hardships of a lower class citizen. You know nothing of heartbreak. You know nothing of true pain." He added bitterly, "Hell, you know nothing at all, do you?" He stood back up, glaring down at the violin-player.

The man protested, "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you."

Arthur snapped, "Whatever." He turned and stomped away, heading back towards the apartment, feeling somewhat regretful for his outburst, but at the same time not caring at all.

* * *

**Thanks for Reading~! Let me know what you think! :)**


	2. The Work at the Underbog

**Author's Note: **So, what happens when you split up the most popular couple in Hetalia fandom? You get my two OTPs! :D Anyway, here it dives more into Arthur's life working at the Underbog, and what had happened prior to three months ago. Enjoy! Thanks to those who commented and favorited/followed my story. I was very surprised at how many people had liked it!

**Chapter Song: **"Wake Me Up When September Ends" by Green Day.

* * *

Stepping through the door to the supposed warehouse that the grime of New York City had named "the Underbog", Arthur lowered the hood to the jacket he had been wearing on his way here, and of course he had been freezing the entire walk. Damned cheap clothing, nothing good could be purchased on his meager budget. If only his boss would let him take a few more bucks after his job was finished.

Speaking of his boss, he strongly hoped that he hadn't been keeping his eye on the time. He was all about punctuality. If he arrived even thirty seconds late, he'd get a deduction in pay or a personal punishment. To him, time was money, and if a client's time was cut short of even a minute, it wasn't a satisfactory job from the whore. Arthur was used to it, though. Some of the others whores had given him the nickname of "Koehler's Personal Plaything". However, all last week, he had been lucky to escape the wrath of Koehler. He hadn't spoken a word to him.

"Arthur! You're late!" came the yell from across the room.

Oh fuck. That's just great. Now he would be left guessing what Koehler planned to do to him...he was five minutes late, not as bad as times before, but five minutes was just signing a ticket to a torturous five minute Hell. His boss, despite his appearance (which ladies claimed to be more easy-going and fun), he was sharp. If you were five minutes late, you'd get a five minute punishment - that wasn't remotely mild at all. If you were an hour late...then you might as well say your prayers before you arrive, because it was unlikely that you would leave walking...or even leave at all. If you just didn't show up at all, you had better change your name, change states, and never ever go anywhere near New York City again. Koehler did NOT forgive whores that tried to leave, that's just the way he worked.

He'd only see one person show up very late, another whore named Heracles had shown up about forty-five minutes late. After his boss was done with him, Heracles had slept on the concrete floor in his own blood.

Koehler stomped up to him, and Arthur's immediate reaction was to look away from the man. Whores were not worthy at looking into the eyes of their masters, that's the way it had always been, it wasn't just Koehler's rule. However, the spiked hair and blue eyes bore into Arthur, glaring at him menacingly. The Englishman was pleading silently: "Go away. Leave me be. Let me off the hook tonight."

His boss backed him into a wall, and pressed his body weight against Arthur's chest. It took all of Arthur's concentration to not look at him. One look, and it would add to the punishment he would be receiving. Koehler hissed, "Do you enjoy seeing me angry, Kirkland? Do you enjoy it when I punish you? You must...because you continue to come late. All last week, you were late and I didn't do anything...but I knew your punctuality was awful." Awful to him meant coming in thirty seconds after the time he was supposed to be there.

Cupping Arthur's chin in his palm, he snarled, "You nothing more than a disgusting bitch, Arthur. But instead of telling you what I'm going to do to you after your shift, I'll let you tell me." Leaning in closer to his ear, pulling on one of the cartilage piercings, he hissed, "Speak, whore." Pulling back, so that he could look at his plaything, Koehler waited for him to talk.

"You're going to..."

"Look at your master when you're talking to him."

Though afraid, Arthur's green eyes met Koehler's blue eyes, and his lips seemed to gain a brain of his own...and he released a damned whimper out of anxiousness. His boss grinned, and pressed his weight harder on Arthur, forcing a knee in between his whore's legs. Koehler knew that due to Arthur's self-consciousness, he hated it whenever anything touched him there...and he had used it to his benefit during his torture sessions.

"Try again."

"You're going to..."

"My name isn't 'you', stupid slut." He ground his knee against Arthur's nether regions and the smaller man had to bite his lip to keep himself from hissing.

"Koehler..."

"Full name."

"Matthias Koehler will punish me as he deems fit, and that is deserving a worthless whore like myself."

"Very good." He released his whore from his grasp, and spoke, "Now get to your post, and hurry up." He smacked Arthur on the butt to get him to move, and the blond headed towards the back, where the other whores would be waiting. Opening up the door, he stepped into the waiting area where the rest of the men were sitting. A brown haired man named Toris was sitting with another blond man known as Vash. Two brothers, Lukas and Emil were sitting together, talking quietly to themselves. Lastly, was the infamous Heracles sitting with the smaller Japanese man, Kiku. He wasn't close to any of them, save Toris and Kiku. Lukas, Emil, and Vash were all rude to him and Heracles would just not care to acknowledge him...in his opinion, it was better than joining in the snide comments and the sneers. Lukas and Vash especially felt very much superior to Arthur, since they had been involved in whoredom much longer than he had...and they knew what was expected of them. But, he'd let their comments go...he just kept to himself that their "experience" just made the two of them dirtier.

Sitting by himself on one of the ragged sofas, he laced his fingers together, and hoped that his client tonight wasn't too terrible.

* * *

Still lying on the bed, Arthur stared up at the ceiling, thanking anything that he believed in that tonight hadn't been difficult to get through. The client who had chosen him was a quiet man with spiked up blonde hair and green eyes, and a prominent scar over one of his eyebrows. He hadn't been overly rough, he hadn't caused him any intentional pain, he hadn't said very much to begin with anyway.

As of currently, the man was cleaning himself off with a towel. There were no insults, no complaints, no threats to tell Koehler of any errors. He hoped that he had gotten what he wanted and wouldn't speak of any deductions in pay. Maybe silent customers were something he could learn to enjoy.

He suddenly sat right next to the whore, and held the towel in one hand. Arthur didn't look at him directly in the eyes, but he could tell the the man's expression was one of questioning. He said in a soft voice, "I could clean you off, if you'd like."

Arthur blinked. A client...cleaning off their whore? That was practically unheard of. He began to sit up, and said, "No...you don't..."

But the man latched onto Arthur's arm and whispered lowly, "I've seen you sitting on the streets. I figured that this is the least I can do...I don't mind."

Arthur nodded hesitantly, "I-I suppose..." Despite the soft words, he found himself even surprised whenever the man started cleaning the fluids off him gently. Even when he wiped away the cum from his cheeks, it was tender...like a mother drying her child off after a bath. He felt slightly uncomfortable once the towel was rubbing at his spent cock, trying to get the sticky fluids off of him, but he managed to tolerate it without making noise or squirming. If his clients were this easy with him, then perhaps being a whore wouldn't be so bad...but he knew better than to think such stupid things.

The man then stood back up and began dressing again, abandoning the towel on the bed. Soon, Arthur managed to do the same thing. He had expected the man to just walk out the door and hand over the payment to Koehler once he was finished clothing himself again, but he reached into his back pocket and pulled out, two fifty dollar bills and handed the cash to him.

"But...aren't you...?"

"It's for you personally. I can't imagine Koehler not tampering with your payment." He sighed, "If you're begging and doing this, you've got to be desperate for some extra cash."

Arthur was taken aback. A client actually sliding him more money than he was supposed to be making? What in the hell was going on? Nevertheless, he wasn't about to pass up another hundred bucks. Hesitantly, his thin fingers wrapped around the bills, and shoved them into his pocket. Arthur said, his voice somewhat strained, "You're too kind."

He shook his head, "I only help those who clearly need it." He then headed out of the room, and Arthur followed after him silently. Maybe he could buy a better jacket, or have more than just one good meal this week. He watched as his client gave his boss the cash after muttering a few words to him, and he headed out onto the night-ridden streets. Koehler split the cash in half and gave one half to Arthur. It quickly went into his pocket along with the secret hundred.

Koehler replied, "Jakob said that you were better than the whore he had last time when he came here." He spoke, "I'll let you go for tonight, only because I'm waiting for you to be an hour late or do something where I can actually punish you." He wrapped an arm around Arthur's waist, pulling him towards his master, and cupping his cheek in the other, "What fun is it to torture a plaything for merely ten minutes?" Finally, the man released him and said, "You better be bringing in cash like that from now on. Doesn't make me happy to see my whores making me loose more money."

Arthur turned on his heel, pulled the hood of his jacket up, and headed out to the streets. Normally, he would stop in a pub and drink himself numb after a rough night at the Underbog, but due to the mildness of the evening, he decided to stop by the landlord and pay the rent money for the week. Afterwards, he could curl up in bed and wake up peacefully the next morning. It'd be a hell of a lot better to his regular mornings.

Finally reaching the apartment building, he stopped by his landlord's room, gave him the payment and headed down to his and Alleric's apartment. Like always, the place was empty. Placing his jacket on one of the hooks by the door, he stretched his arms over his head and dropped his body onto his bed once he reached his room, too happy that he was spared an aching body for tonight. Koehler had let him go again, though he knew that he would run out of luck eventually, he had been paid extra, and his client hadn't fucked him senseless into the mattress like he was normally used to. He soon drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

* * *

Morning came, and he didn't have to be awoken rudely by some bartender, his brother, or Koehler. He let a hot shower warm him up, and pulled on his clothes at his own pace. He had roughly a hundred and fifty dollars to his disposal, so he decided to take the cash to a café he usually visited when he had extra money.

Closing the apartment door with a satisfying click, he locked it and headed down the elevator.

Inside the elevator was an older man holding the hand of a younger girl, and as far as Arthur could tell...the two were brother and sister. During the ride, the brother knelt down by his sister and kissed her cheeks, causing her to giggle and try to get away. The little brown haired girl crashed her body weight into Arthur's leg, wrapping her arms around it...laughing as if there was nothing wrong with grabbing onto a stranger. The brother scolded her gently, but Arthur couldn't help but ruffle the girl's hair. He always had a soft spot for children. The girl soon returned to her brother's side, and the two left once the elevator reached the ground floor.

He noticed that his shoes didn't trudge along the ground as much as they normally did, but that was probably due to his higher spirits today. After walking three blocks, he stopped inside the café and headed up to the counter.

The lady smiled, "Hi, what can I get for you today?" Normally, he saw the women behind the counter holding practiced smiles, ones that obviously shouted: "I don't want to do this, but I'll get paid if I do so." Instead, the young pretty woman behind the counter was holding a genuine and kind smile. If he wasn't gay, then he may have chatted her up in the hopes of asking her out.

Instead he said, "French onion soup and hot tea?"

She replied, "What kind of tea?"

"Earl Grey."

He handed over the cash, and she handed him a receipt, letting him know that he could be seated and wait for a waiter to bring his order to him. After about ten minutes of sitting at the table, lost in thought, he was given his meal and he thanked the waitress who had done the task.

Savoring the food, because he wasn't sure whenever he would get to taste food like this again, he probably took longer than necessary to eat. He watched as people came and went, and he was just finishing his cup of tea whenever he saw a familiar face walk in.

And to think that today was suppose to be a rare jewel. He sighed aloud, perhaps he really couldn't have a day all to himself anymore. Those violet eyes that clearly hid dark intentions, that small smile that added to his cruelty, and that scarf ever-present around his neck. Ivan Braginsky. The man had seen him as well, so instead of heading up to the counter to order something, he took a seat in front of him.

He spoke first, "It's been a while, Arthur."

Arthur hissed, "What business have you with me?"

Ivan raised an eyebrow, "Checking in with an old co-worker isn't a bad thing, da?"

The Brit snapped back, "Load of rubbish..." He narrowed his green eyes at the man, "Allow me to get out of this building and into an alleyway before you speak to me again. I get the feeling that I'll loose my temper and cause a scene otherwise."

Ivan shrugged, "Fair enough."

Arthur had stood and returned the plate, mug, and silverware, before giving a generous thanks to the woman at the counter. Heading to the glass door, Ivan trailed behind him. Stepping harshly on the cold stone street, Arthur led the taller man past the main streets and into an alleyway. Pining his shoes to the cracked concrete, Arthur stood his ground as he faced the intimidating man.

"What in the hell do want from me?"

Ivan grinned, "How rude. I thought you were supposed to be a gentleman."

"Well, it's not very gentlemanly what you've done to my life!"

Ivan purred, placing one of his hands on his large chest, "Me? Whatever did I do?"

Arthur accusingly pointed at him, "You know bloody well what you did! You've ruined my life! You got me fired from my job! You've changed Alfred into being colder and more rude! You _stole_ him! You seduced him away from me! Don't be a fucking idiot and play coy right in front of me!"

Ivan blinked, "Firstly, I did not get you fired from your job, or affect Alfred in any way...those two things are false. Secondly, I did not push myself onto him...he came to me, and all I did was do what he wanted me to."

Arthur shouted, "Liar! Alfred was faithful until you showed up!"

Ivan replied, "It was his decision to cheat, not mine." He grinned, "He wanted me to kiss him, so I did..."

Arthur cried out, "Enough of that! You lie!"

"He asked me to hold him...so I did."

"I said stop!" By now, he had his hands over his ears, and he was backing up away from the taller man.

"He asked me to touch him...so I did."

"Stop! Dammit! Shut up!"

"He asked me to love him...so I did, and still do."

"Stop!" He hit the back wall, and covered his ears tightly.

"I'm sorry, Arthur. But he loves me more than you. I can't do anything about it."

"Fucking incubus."

"Still going to accuse me? I'm nothing but innocent in this situation."

"YOU STOLE HIM! HE LOVED ME!"

Ivan grinned, "Maybe you should reflect on yourself more, Arthur. If he truly loved you as much as you believe...then why would he cheat on you to begin with?" He turned and smirked, "Just keep that in mind...I'm tired of standing in a disgusting alleyway, so I'll see you, da?"

He waved goodbye, and left Arthur alone.

* * *

**Thanks for Reading~! Let me know what you think! :)**


	3. The Suffering of a Whore

**Author's Note: **WARNING! This chapter is where the M-rating comes from. So...um...enjoy! :3 Thanks to everyone who has commented on the story so far! I love you all! :D

**Chapter Song: **"Be My Escape" by Relient K

* * *

His heart heavy, Arthur had spent the rest of the day in a library. Although he would prefer to be sitting in a study and sipping on a cup of hot tea while he read a novel, a library wasn't bad either. He didn't bother to obtain a card for the library, because he knew that whatever books he checked out would never be read on his schedule, so he simply decided to just read whenever he had the time to sit in a library for hours on end.

He had picked up the novel that he had started reading the last time he came here, and finished it...somewhat disappointed at the ending. Deciding the he wasn't ready to leave, he went on the hunt for something else that would catch his attention. The chosen book for today was _"Lord of the Flies"_ by William Golding. The story was somewhat horrifying in a sense, but the book's draw factor was just too strong for the Brit to not stop reading. Before he knew it, the hours flickered by and it became seven o' clock. As Arthur finished reading the novel and placed it back on the shelf, he buried his hands in his pockets and walked out of the library with a small frown on his face.

Time for work.

* * *

Stepping through the doors to the warehouse, he looked up to see a small ring of the whores standing around Koehler, who had his foot pressed into one of the other whore's ribcage. Lowering the hood of the jacket and stepping closer, he saw that his boss had Heracles on the floor, the latter struggling to overcome the strong boot present on his chest.

"Some useless bitch you are! You think you're worth something? You're not! You're garbage! No one would care for a tramp like you!" Koehler yelled.

It was clearly obvious that the man had no intention to submit to the Dane who held him to the floor. He would fight, even if those powerful shoes would kill him. Heracles snarled defiantly, even sounding intimidating in his quiet accent, "You're no better. Treating desperate men like slaves. You're more worthless than us who-!" His sentence was cut off when the boot crushed his cheekbone, causing the Greek to cough up a small puddle of blood.

Koehler spat, "Talking like that to your master? I should have you spayed!"

Heracles hissed, causing Koehler to press the sole of his boot harder down on his cheek, and swung his other boot into the brown-haired man's stomach. He lurched forward and gave a nasty hack of a cough, blood seeping past his lips once again.

No whore made one move to help him, not even a cry of protest. All they could do was simply watch the "delinquent" whore be abused by his master. Arthur stole a quick glance to the others. Kiku, Toris, and even Emil looked somewhat horrified in one way or another. Vash and Lukas seemed to care little for the fact that the man was being abused harshly by Koehler, and if they did...they were acting very composed about it.

Their boss removed his boots from the Greek, and growled, "Get your ass out of my warehouse, now. You can go rot in a sewer for all I care! Show your face around here again, and no one will recognize you once I'm done with it!"

It took him a couple minutes, but eventually, Heracles stood and headed out the door, slamming it shut once he was gone. He was probably either stomping down the street, or limping down it.

Koehler turned to the rest of his whores once he was gone, "Let that be a lesson to the lot of you. Try to make a fool out of me, and I'll make you wish you never even thought of an idea like that." He then called out impatiently, "Don't just stand there and gape at me like a bunch of idiots! Get in the back!"

He shooed the lot off to the back room, where Arthur and the others rested on the sofas until Koehler was ready for them.

Kiku had taken a seat next to Arthur, and Toris sat on the other side of Kiku. The Asian man spoke softly, "I can't believe that Heracles of all people would cause trouble...and now he's gone for good..."

Vash shrugged, "You get used to it. I've seen a lot more than just him get kicked out of the Underbog. Happens more often then you'd think."

Kiku protested, "But, why? What do they do to the boss?"

Lukas sighed, "Usually it has something to do with the treatment of a client. Koehler may not care about us in the slightest, but the clients mean the most importance to him. I think Heracles left a mark somewhere on whoever he was with last, and that's pretty much a taboo."

Toris blinked, "All for just one mark?"

Vash nodded, "It can cause problems, raise questions. Koehler does his best to make sure that sessions with us are as secretive as possible. That's why he threatens us so much, to make sure we rake in the cash for him and that the client is satisfied, so they'll come back. Whatever Hera did, it was wrong and he was punished for it by taking away his job here."

Emil hissed, "Normally, once a whore has been in the career for a few months, they'll get confident and it'll lead to taking risks. Soon, one risk becomes their downfall and the boss makes sure that they never forget their mistake."

Vash looked up at Arthur, "It's pretty easy to map out who'll be the next one to do such a thing." The Brit felt his body tense slightly, the Swiss man seemed so certain that he would be the next victim.

The door was opened, and Koehler stepped in with his list, "Time to work." All the whores looked up, slightly nervous to hear who they would be having to lie down with.

* * *

Vash, Lukas, and Emil were already given the names of their clients and were dismissed to their rooms. Toris was next. Koehler looked at the name, "Some man named Feliks. I think he was recommended by one of our past clients: Gilbert." The boss snarled, and uttered to himself, "Damned Gil, leaving me in the dust to go live 'happily ever after' with some boy."

He looked to Kiku once Toris was gone, "Kiku, you have Yao." Arthur couldn't help but give a relieved smile. Yao wasn't one to be rough to who he slept with, he had been with the man a couple times before. Koehler then spoke, "Arthur, you have Sadik. He was supposed to be with Heracles, but he's gone now."

Kiku and Arthur exchanged a nervous glance. Heracles had mentioned that Sadik was a harsh client, and liked eliciting painful sensations in his whores. Koehler snapped, "Hey! You don't get paid to sit there and stare at each other! Get moving!"

The two quickly stood up, and headed out the door. Kiku whispered quickly, "I'm sorry, Arthur. I'll hope that you'll be alright after tonight."

Arthur growled, "Worry about yourself. I know that I won't be able to walk correctly for a while after tonight."

Kiku protested, "You don't know that!"

Arthur growled, "I sometimes saw blood running down Hera's legs after he had done a couple rounds with Sadik, and he was used to rough partners! I'm dead, Kiku! Hear me? Dead!"

The smaller man had to leave to his room, and Arthur trailed his feet slowly to the room he had been assigned to when he first became employed at the Underbog. Room 5.

Sitting down on the bed, which was probably the nicest thing in the room, he glanced up at the flickering lightbulb that was starting to make his eyes hurt from the quick changes between light and darkness. In all honesty, the room just seemed like one of a cheap motel room that happened to have a really nice bed in it, and that was it.

The door was pushed open, and Arthur felt his heart skip a beat when the man stepped in. Sadik was a large man, even larger than Alfred, with proud muscles that adorned his limbs. Arthur grimaced at the thought that with his build, that there would probably be a lot entering him this evening.

Sadik raised an eyebrow, "You're Hera's replacement?" He spat, "Matthias could have given me with more meat on their bones..."

Arthur didn't reply, he merely started loosening the buttons on his shirt, and pulled the garment off his body, letting Sadik get a good view of his torso. The man was clearly not impressed, "You're practically anorexic. I'd easily snap you in half."

Arthur merely replied, "I'm sure I'll be fine." He nearly smacked himself when he heard the sneer on his tongue.

Sadik growled, "Arrogant bitch." He shed his body of his shirt and pants, and crawled onto the bed. He ordered Arthur, "Get naked. I don't do foreplay with whores." Sadik had only enjoyed foreplay with one whore, and that was Hera.

Hesitantly, the blond removed his pants and underwear, discarding them on the floor. He absolutely hated when clients stared at him for long periods of time, which is what Sadik was doing. He'd rather a man with a blindfold on pound into him than have someone who loved to stare and caress him and be extremely slow and gentle. He didn't care for those who tried to make him feel good, that wasn't what a whore was supposed to do. They were supposed to provide a body that one could make use of.

Sadik pushed him down onto the bed, crushing his shoulders under those strong hands that the man possessed. He felt the man push open up his thighs, and Arthur sucked in a quick breath of air. He knew that tensing up would just make it more painful for him, but he just couldn't help it. Fear was consuming his nerves, and anxiety coursed through his blood.

Suddenly, his breath hitched once he felt one of his hands brush over the area he never expected him to touch. He squeezed his eyes shut, and hissed in his head, _'Damn it. Lying bastard.'_ The hand wrapped around him, and his precise fingers were touching him in all the right spots. He felt his body squirm underneath his client.

If Arthur's eyes had been open, he would have seen Sadik smirking down at him, "Matthias, however, did tell me your weak spots and all the things that make you whine." He chuckled, "At least he was smart enough to do that." His fingers stroked him slowly, rubbing his thumb over the head and causing the Brit to whimper. He hated that a man that he didn't even know could cause this sort of sensation, a lack of comfort and sickly pleasure all in one second.

Arthur moaned, "Stop...please..."

Sadik curled his fingers around his member tightly, "What gives you any right to tell me to stop? Your body belongs to me." He stroked the underside of his cock and massaged the insides of his thighs in the process. "And I plan to use it the way I want to." He pulled on him slightly, eliciting a surprised gasp, "Protest too much and I won't be very gentle."

Arthur attempted to relax, but the man's fingers were driving him insane. He wanted to badly to kick out at him, demand that he stop being so torturous, but he knew that the action would have deadly results. So, instead he just released whatever noises that came into his throat, trying to throw out all forms of insecurity. He was a whore, why in the hell would Sadik care about him enough to embarrass him intentionally? He was here for his body, not his emotions.

The fingers retreated, and Arthur exhaled quietly.

"Lie on your stomach," the man ordered.

Arthur quickly changed positions, leaning his body weight on his forearms and knees, exposing his ass to his client. He would call himself an idiot later on, because he wasn't expecting Sadik to thrust in immediately and dry. He let out a wail of pain, burying his face into one of the pillows and latching his teeth to the fabric. He felt too full too fast, and his insides felt like they were on fire.

His green eyes shot open whenever that hand returned to his dick, rubbing it harshly at the slit, he was about to whimper again, but his other hand clamped over his mouth. Sadik snarled, "Relax your insides or you'll be fucked unconscious, stupid bitch."

Though his legs were quaking, he willed his legs to spread more and to calm himself down, easing up on the grip of Sadik's too large cock. The man took that as invitation to start pounding his insides harshly. Cries and whimpers were released when the hand covering his mouth disappeared, and Sadik was now stroking him in time with the thrusts, causing his entire body to tremble.

Shoving himself in and out of the smaller man, Sadik relished in the desperate calls that his whore was making. If Heracles had made half the noise that Arthur did...oh hell, that would have been amazing. He sank his teeth into the blond's shoulder and had to hold Arthur down from jerking up. The whore could feel blood spilling from his insides, and from the wound in his shoulder. The pain was outdoing the pleasure, and his "fight or flight" instincts were kicking in.

Without processing his possible consequences, he called out out a "Stop!" and pushed Sadik out of him harshly, and crawled over to the other side of the bed. The Turkish man snarled angrily, "Worthless bitch!" He threw his fist at Arthur's face, and cracked his jaw. The whore fell back onto the bed, his legs still open, and his eyes closed...trying to mentally subdue the pain throbbing at the bruised area.

Sadik shoved himself back inside his whore, trying to get rid of his erection quickly so that he could get out the damned Underbog. This was the first whore that had lashed out at him, and now that Heracles was gone, he had no reason to come back here. He pounded himself into Arthur, felt himself release his fluids, and pulled out. From there, he cleaned himself off with a towel, and pulled his clothes back on. Giving one last glare at Arthur, he threw the door open and the man lying on the bed trembled when he heard Sadik yell something and slammed the doors shut to the warehouse.

Arthur had just signed himself a death wish. Every slight movement he made was painful, and he was certain that it had been Koehler whom Sadik had snarled at. That meant that he was about to receive another punishment from his boss.

* * *

Sure enough, Koehler arrived in his room, holding a whip in his palm. His eyebrows were furrowed together, and he spat, "You fucked up, Kirkland." Smacking the whip against the wall, Koehler climbed onto the bed, and pulled up a pair of handcuffs that had been resting in one of his belt loops.

He latched Arthur to the head of the bed, his body facing the wall, praying that he would live through the punishment that Koehler had in store for him. His boss raised the whip, and he smacked it against Arthur's backside and in between his legs. Striking at the globes of his ass, he growled whenever Arthur tried to close his legs and make his figure smaller. Though it was submissive, it annoyed Koehler that Arthur's tender areas were now harder to hit with his whip. So, he decided on a different approach. He flipped the blonde over, and rested his hand at his cock, teasing, stroking, and pulling. Whining like a desperate bitch, Arthur threw his head back and tried to protest, but couldn't form any words.

A sickening feeling rushed to his stomach, and he grimaced when he felt his member becoming hard. Koehler noticed an erection forming on his whore, and pulled out a cock ring. Making sure that it would cut him off from sweet release, the boss continued to torture Arthur's nether regions with his hand, because he knew how much the man hated being touched there. He even lowered his lips to ghost over the organ, and Arthur felt his spine freeze. He felt his boss's tongue run over him, and if he didn't have a bloody cock ring on, he would have spilled immediately. Koehler took the whore's dick into his mouth, using his teeth and tongue to make Arthur feel worse. The smaller blond knew that the man was trying to make him feel utterly disgusted with himself, and uncomfortable, and he submitted to the feelings.

Once the mouth was removed, Arthur whispered desperately, "Master...please..."

Koehler raised an eyebrow, "Please what?"

Arthur trembled, his voice ragged, "Please...forgive me..."

Koehler growled, "You made me loose two hundred dollars, stupid fuck. I'm not letting you off the hook easily."

Arthur whimpered, "Master..."

Koehler lowered his hand back to his member and pumped the throbbing erection slowly, "Tell me what you want, Kirkland."

The whore cried out, "L-Let me...let me ride it out myself..."

His master raised an intrigued eyebrow, "...Fine." He pulled the cock ring off of Arthur and hissed, "I'll come back in thirty minutes and you better be finished by then." The man handcuffed to the bed could only nod. Riding away an erection was difficult, and if his hands were free, he could easily have relieved himself...but he'd just have to let his cock die down without release.

By the time his boss returned with a key, Arthur was coated in sweat and his cheeks and ears had gone red. His arousal was finally gone, and Koehler moved to unlock the cuffs. As he rubbed his aching wrists, Koehler growled, "The next time that this happens, I'll fuck you dry against a wall. You hear me, bitch?"

Arthur nodded, and moved off the bed to pull his clothes on. Once he was clothed again, he trailed out of the room, and looked up to see Toris still in the warehouse.

* * *

He motioned for Arthur to follow him, and the blond complied. Silently walking side by side, Toris took him to a nearby pub...as if the Lithuanian man could read his mind. They had a seat at the bar counter, though it was painful for Arthur due to the harsh treatment of his body that evening, and Toris ordered himself a vodka shot, and ordered scotch for Arthur.

The brown-haired man glanced at Arthur, who was resting his fist under his cheek. He could see that the other one had a prominent bruise forming underneath it. He sighed, "I won't ask your night went, since I could hear the screams from the main room."

Arthur merely glared at him, and Toris protested, "Sorry, sorry! I invited you out here because I thought that a drink would help you cope with tonight."

The other man growled, "You're not doing a very good job as a host."

Toris sighed, and sipped at his vodka, "Arthur, I need your advice..."

Arthur blinked and his features softened, "Yes?"

Toris clutched his hair in worry and whispered, "I think I'm in love..."

"Why are you asking me for love advice?"

"It's with Feliks."

Arthur felt his jaw drop, and his mouth fell open, "You're in love...with a _client_?! Have you lost your bloody mind?"

Toris wailed, "No! Feliks said it himself. He said that he wanted me to come live with him and everything!"

The Brit rolled his eyes, "Did he say this during sex?"

Toris shook his head, "He was saying sweet things to me beforehand, and talked to me while he was touching me, and he let me touch and kiss him back. He likes me, I know it."

In his opinion, Arthur thought that the whole scenario was farfetched. Sure, Toris had never spoken of feelings like this before, and it was odd for a client to allow a whore to give them the same treatment, but it was love found in the Underbog. And nothing was right there. He sighed, "My only concern is if the feeling is truly returned. He was a man who came in for a whore, not to find love."

Toris frowned, drowning down his vodka, "I understand your point of view, but I don't care to listen to your concerns. I love him."

Arthur replied, "Then congratu-fucking-lations, Toris. I'm happy for you."

Toris growled, "You're always so damn sarcastic and pessimistic. Don't you ever feel happy about anything?"

Arthur shook his head, "No. I don't. I'm a whore who begs on the streets, is addicted to drugs and alcohol, and lost his love. I lost the ability to feel happy."

The taller man sighed, "Sorry. What can I do to make you feel a bit better?"

The smaller man's words were already slurred, "Buy me a bottle of scotch, and get me some drugs." He rested his head on the counter.

Toris nodded, "Done and done." He reached into his coat pocket, and pulled out a syringe filled with something. "Koehler gave this to me." On top of Koehler being their master, he also had ties to drug dealers in the area. If a whore had raked in some good cash or offered enough to him, he'd give them some drugs for their troubles. Shoving the drug back in his pocket, he smiled, "You look like you need it a lot more than I do."

The Lithuanian purchased a large bottle of scotch for Arthur, and the two left the pub, seating themselves in the nearby alleyway. It was too dark for anyone to notice the two of them, so they didn't have to go too far in. Arthur quickly drained the bottle of scotch, and the Brit hiccuped every time he tried to speak, though his words made no sense whatsoever.

Toris then pulled out the syringe and spoke, "You ready? I'll inject it, you look too wasted to do it correctly." Despite the calmness of his tone, he was actually very nervous about doing such a deed. Arthur was his friend (well, kind of) and he didn't want to hurt him with the drugs he had been given.

However, once Arthur gave him a drunken nod, he went ahead and pressed the needle of the syringe to his arm, and injected the liquid drug into his vein. Hiding the tool in his jacket, he watched as Arthur gave him a small smile of gratitude and fell harshly back against the wall, his world going black.

* * *

He had always enjoyed New York City at night. The orange lights of the posts illuminated the city nicely, and he enjoyed watching the planes go by with their flashing lights. It was also a time where he didn't have to worry about work. The best shots were captured under the warm, friendly light of the sun. The night's dark haze made everything difficult to see in an image, so he didn't have to take his camera during his late-night strolls.

He had been enjoying the quietness, save cars that would pass by him every few minutes, until he saw a man stumbling from an alleyway. Letting his fingers drop to his pocket, where he always kept a lighter and a pocket knife, the man had stopped to make eye contact for one second, and charged away into the night. Curious to see what had happened, the man continued on to the space in between the buildings, and saw an interesting sight.

It was another individual, the wall keeping his body sitting up, and his eyes dropped closed. He could spot that there was an empty bottle that was originally in a paper bag, but was now rolling back and forth on it's side. The man had most likely passed out from alcohol intake, and the other man had worried that he may have killed his companion. But, he knew better. Kneeling to gaze at the stranger, he noticed the dark rings under his eyes and a bruise on his jawline. But despite the little things that had been acquired on his face, he found the person to be very attractive. He couldn't even imagine how horrible it would be to wake up in an alley with a hangover, so he didn't want to just leave him there. Checking the persona for anything that could harm him with, and finding nothing, the man made up his mind and pulled the drunk man onto his back.

Carrying him down the darkened streets, he was wondering if he was doing something good or incredibly stupid, or both.

* * *

**Thanks for Reading~! Tell me what you think! :)**


	4. The Pain of the Past

**Author's Note: **Big emotional chapter alert! Here is where Arthur's past is more closely examined. Thanks to everyone who has left comments! They keep me going, and make me want to update faster for all of y'all. :3

**Chapter Songs: **"Mr. Know It All" and "Behind These Hazel Eyes" by Kelly Clarkson

* * *

It was when he realized that he was sitting on a comfortable sofa that he knew something was wrong about this entire situation. Arthur could remember the hefty amount of scotch that Toris had bought for him and that damned syringe. He hadn't even been given two seconds to enjoy the drugs until he passed out. He just didn't remember this all taking place in an apartment or the likes. Had the other whore brought him home afterwards?

He creaked open one eye, and tried to not submit under the sun's bright and cruel light. Arthur needed to know where he was, so that his heart would stop throbbing as fast as his head had been about twenty minutes ago. The hangover was leaving him quickly, but the ache still remained drilled on his skull.

Clutching his forehead, he attempted to use the pillows to sit him up. Letting out a groan from sleepiness, he heard footsteps against a hardwood or tile floor, and looked over to see the owner of the steps. His eyes shot open and he nearly fell off the couch when he didn't recognize who was standing there.

The man didn't look to be very much taller than himself, with a nice thin body structure that he was familiar with, and he actually possessed nicely toned muscles on his limbs instead of just skin and bones. He also had shoulder-length blond hair, a little bit of a strange sight for a New York City dweller, and a slight amount of stubble on his chin.

He was carrying a plate of something in one palm, and when he saw Arthur sit up and started to stare at him, he gave the other man a small smile, "You look a lot better, _mon ami_." _Mon ami?_ He must be French.

Arthur groaned, "Who are you? Where the hell am I?"

The French-speaker replied, "I'm Francis, and you're in my apartment."

Arthur raised an eyebrow, "Did Toris bring me here, or put you up to this?"

Francis blinked his blue eyes questionably, "Who's Toris?"

At once, the blood drained out of Arthur's features, and he sat back on the couch. Francis shrugged, "Is there a problem? I don't know a person named Toris."

Arthur hissed, "Don't tell me..." He glared at the other man, "...you brought me here yourself?" Francis shrugged and nodded. Arthur pushed his knees into the couch cushions and gripped onto the back frame of the couch, "Have you lost your bloody mind?! What made you think it was smart to bring someone like _me_ home with you?!"

Francis took a seat in a chair nearby, "Well, I couldn't leave you in an alleyway with a hangover, now could I? Besides, if you're warning me that I shouldn't have brought you home, then you're probably not going to hurt _moi_." Francis smirked, "You don't look like you could stomach it anyway."

Arthur felt his cheeks turn red out of embarrassment, "Oh shut up. You're as annoying as a croaking frog."

Francis raised an eyebrow, "I rescue you from waking up in an alley, and you repay me by calling me a frog? How rude."

Arthur rolled his eyes, "You're an idiot." The Frenchman had no idea that waking up in unpleasant places wasn't uncommon for him.

Francis asked, "Would you prefer me to carry you back to the place I found you?"

Arthur growled, "Sure, why not? I wake up in an apartment of someone I don't even know after a hard night at work, and they suddenly think that they know me like we've been friends for years."

Francis questioned, "Not willing to share?"

Arthur shouted, "I DON'T EVEN KNOW YOU!"

The other man sighed, "Can't you calm down? I don't have any bad intentions towards you, and I wanted to help you out. You're acting like I kidnapped you."

"You did!"

"Is it considered kidnapping if I gave you a nicer place to sleep and I'm willing to feed you?"

"Just because you're a nice kidnapper doesn't make you any less of a kidnapper!"

"Well, the 'nice' part is progress. Did you want anything to eat?"

Arthur considered saying no, but the food was free, and from the looks of whatever Francis had been eating, it could more or less be better than the food at the soup kitchens. He sighed, "Well, if you're offering..." Francis proceeded to prepare the Brit a croissant and a cup of tea, Earl Grey, since Arthur refused to drink any "French-ified excuse for tea".

As Arthur was eating (ravenously, in fact) Francis caught himself observing the other man. He had a very slim build, one could argue that he appeared almost anorexic, and had a lacking of muscle. He supposed that he wasn't just imagining it whenever he felt that carrying the person had been an easy task. His hair was only a shade or two lighter than his own, though his hair style was short and choppy, and it was accompanied by marvelous green eyes. For the most part, he found this mysteriously rude stranger to be very handsome, but there were some odd things that he had observed.

Last night, he figured that the man didn't want to wake up in his coat. But, when he pulled it off, he noticed that his limbs were decorated with trails of bruises, most in the shape of fingerprints. Francis had considered examining the body more, to see what in the world could have happened to him, but he decided that he could be digging into privacy that he may have no business exploring. A sickening feeling of what this "work", that the man had mentioned before, could be had washed over him...but he didn't want to immediately jump to conclusions.

"Can't I at least know your name?" he asked instead.

The paler blond raised a thick eyebrow, "And what do you plan on doing with my name?"

Francis rolled his eyes, "Call you that so that I don't have to say 'you' so much."

After a couple hesitant seconds, he replied, "It's Arthur."

Francis smiled, "Pleasure to meet you."

Arthur retorted, "Please to be kidnapped by you." Francis sighed, abandoning his plate on the side table, he sat down next to the sharp-tongued Brit. Arthur snapped, "Get back over to your chair and stay away from me!"

The Frenchman replied, "Why? I'm not going to hurt you."

Arthur rolled his eyes, "Sure! They all say that...!"

Francis blinked, "_'They all'_?"

Immediately, Arthur's cheeks turned pink, realizing that he had said too much.

The other man asked, "Are 'they all' the ones who gave you those bruises?"

"You...saw those?" He felt his hand raise to his shoulder and cup the blade.

"And your scars. _Ju suis désolé_, I didn't mean to see anything you wanted to keep hidden."

Arthur's cheeks flushed a darker red, "They're just ugly is all..."

"They're not ugly, Arthur. And I feel there's more to the story than you're letting on. Who's been hurting you?"

"Stop prying! I don't want to share anything with someone I've only met!"

"_Mon ami_, I'm not going to expose any secrets you have. I only ask because you appear to have so much on your mind. Keeping things bottled up isn't healthy." Francis wasn't lying, but he wasn't telling the entire truth either. If it turned out that Arthur was some kind of criminal, he would turn him in, of course. But, it would take a truly dishonorable deed to make him do that.

Arthur hissed, "I don't know you. I don't share anything with strangers, let alone kidnappers." He felt his voice starting to shake and his throat grow thicker.

Francis placed a tender hand on his arm, "How do you expect to meet friends then? I want to know what's on your mind."

Arthur's cheeks heated up again. This man reminded him of that client that had slept with him two nights ago. He had taken advantage of him, but had tried to renew that by helping him out and paying him more than he deserved. Why in the hell was this happening to him? Was Francis some sort of permanent version of that man? Why was he being so kind? _Why did he want to know?_ The too many questions filled his mind, and it was beginning to overwhelm him. So much that he felt his body beginning to shake, and he grasped onto Francis's sleeve gently, like a timid little boy that wanted to stay connected to his mother. Funny, he had used the same kind of analogy with the client's behavior.

Arthur felt his closely guarded walls starting to crumble away, and he just let out the emotions he had held so tightly within him for a long time. Looping his arms around Francis's torso, he buried his face into his chest, and started crying. He felt like such a child, but he couldn't help it. Arthur had been looking for this kind of comfort for months, though he hadn't ever realized it. He didn't even retaliate whenever Francis's hand slipped into his hair and held him close with his other arm. Francis shushed him gently, like a parent, and whispered, "Tell me what's making you so upset...please?"

Arthur, finally having eased up on the tears, nodded slowly, "Okay..."

* * *

The day was partly cloudy and there was a slight breeze, telling the citizens of New York City that summer was ending and they would be embracing fall soon. Arthur was coming home from work early today, due to the amount of workers that had shown up today. His co-workers had given him the okay to go ahead and leave, so he had stopped by the store on his way back to the apartment.

He had wanted to surprise his fiancé whenever he came home, as he worked on the other side of town, with a cake. Though Alfred had forbidden him from ever using the kitchen, how would he get better if he didn't try again? He was pretty sure that his lack of ability to cook was merely because he hadn't done it enough, and not some sort of genetic trait.

Clutching the bag in one hand, he jammed the key into the lock, and pushed the door open with his shoulder. He headed immediately to the kitchen and set the bag down on the counter. His senses perked up whenever he heard a strange banging sound coming from the bedroom.

Groaning, Arthur was certain that Alfred had forgotten, yet again, to lock Angel (a dog that Arthur had gotten his fiancé for their third year anniversary of being together, commonly called "Angie") in her cage. Now she was probably knocking something over in their room that would have to be replaced.

Heading down to the bedroom, and opened the door up. However, instead of seeing their mischievous puppy, he saw the horrific sight of one of his co-workers, Ivan Braginsky, settling in between Alfred's legs, the two of them locked in a passionate kiss.

He fell back against the doorframe, and whimpered disbelievingly, "_Alfred...?_"

At once, the two broke away and Alfred's eyes widened up in surprise when he caught the sight of his soon-to-be husband. It was obvious that their actions would have led onto sex if he hadn't interrupted, and his throat was becoming swollen. Ivan was on his bed, about to claim his man as his own.

Alfred could only whisper, "I didn't...want you to find out this way..." Arthur wanted so desperately to believe that his eyes were playing tricks on him, but the words sounded so empty and half-hearted, as if they were stated because he had to say them. His fiancé's face was believable, but not his words.

Slamming in the bedroom door, he stormed into the living room and paced back and forth quickly out of frustration and grief. His love, his life, his everything...had betrayed him, cheated on him. Why? Why would he...?

Alfred and Ivan had come into the living room, now clothed, interrupting his thoughts. Ivan stood in the corner of the room, trying to stay out of the way for the confrontation. This was between Alfred and Arthur.

Arthur could have asked him a million other things, shouted a million accusations at him; but, he rested with the question, "How long has this been going on for?" His voice was cold and hard, demanding an answer.

Alfred responded softly, "Umm...about two months?" Arthur had noticed that his fingers had twisted around one of his belt loops, a thing he knew his fiancé did whenever he was telling a lie.

Arthur shouted, "Don't stand there and lie to me! Tell me the truth, Alfred!"

His love's eyes closed in defeat, and he breathed out, "...A year..."

Arthur's irises widened, and he cupped his hand over his mouth in shock and betrayal. Alfred had spent one year sleeping with Ivan behind his back?! The two had only been engaged for four months!

His voice trembled, "Our entire engagement...was all a _lie_...?"

Alfred protested, "I didn't want to hurt you..."

Arthur felt tears rising to his eyes, "You thought that proposing to me was the way to cover up your love for him?!" He pointed to Ivan, "You never thought that it would hurt me in the long run?!"

Alfred yelled back, "No! I didn't! I couldn't do it! I didn't know what to do and...!"

Arthur cut him off, "Shut up! You bloody idiot, why would you do this to me?!" He met his gaze and tempered his voice, "Alfred, do you even love me anymore...?"

Instead of an answer, Alfred raised his right hand that held the engagement ring on his third finger, and slipped it off. He grasped onto Arthur's wrist and forced his palm to open. "I'm sorry Arthur..." He placed the ring in his former-fiancé's palm and closed it again. "...but it's over."

Unable to speak, Arthur simply bolted out of the apartment, leaving his love behind. That apartment was no longer home to him, it now belonged to Alfred and Ivan, and whatever "so strong" love that they possessed for each other.

A couple hours later, a melancholy and somewhat tipsy Arthur had returned to the apartment, asking for permission to retrieve his possessions. However, the results of his asking had been one he hadn't seen coming.

"Nothing belongs to you anymore, Arthur," had been Alfred's reply.

"What...?"

"Get out of here, _now._ I never want to see you again." Such a cruel and cold tone. It made Arthur want to burst into tears and demand him what had happened to his beloved? Memories of the ray of sunshine of a person that Arthur had fallen for, they were now crushed by this desolate and harsh being with the same face. Later on, Arthur would push all the blame onto Ivan, believing that his wickedness had chilled his once-warm heart.

Instead of demanding that anything he owned be returned, he fled the apartment building and sought for shelter at his brother's apartment, though Alleric hadn't done such a great job at comforting him. However, the red-headed brother did allow him to stay in the apartment for as long as he wanted, just as long as he paid for everything he needed himself.

The next day, Arthur had shown up to work, but was presented with a pink slip upon arrival. He had protested to the woman whom had given it to him why he was being fired, but she shrugged, "The boss didn't inform me of that. Sorry, Kirkland. I didn't want to see you get laid off." And that was when his life had taken a turn for the worse. His brother had talked him into pawning the band that Alfred once wore for cash to support himself on, but soon, he had to find another way to make money.

* * *

He explained to Francis about the alcohol and drugs, the begging on the streets, his desperate turn to whoredom, everything. He had to let it all be known, because he could never had fully told anybody whom he was close to before. He didn't care that he was talking to a man whom he hadn't known for two hours, he just had to tell someone.

Francis had held him close and listened carefully, absorbing everything that the Brit had spoken. He realized that the man he was holding in his arms was probably as delicate as a spiderweb, and he was so broken. Having to dwell in such pain, sadness, and horrors for such a long time...Francis couldn't imagine how Arthur was still living. But, he was thankful that he could have been there to hear his tale, if he was considering ending his suffering.

Francis didn't know how, and wasn't positive on why, but he swore to himself that he would heal Arthur. For the man's sake, he had to at least see him renewed and strengthened, even if Arthur would want nothing to do with him ever again after he stitched him back up.

* * *

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	5. The Savior in a Photographer

**Author's Note: **I'm so sorry this chapter took so long to write. I could write out everything I can blame for not having it up sooner, but that'd just be tedious to read. I'll put myself in the corner of shame instead. Anywho, I hope you guys enjoy the next chapter (kind of a filler in my opinion, but the next one will be fun!). Thanks to everyone who has commented and favorited and followed the story! And, I give special thanks to Miri-chan98, DanieSora, StellarSophie, and SaraBarns~! You guys make me want to keep writing, and I love all your comments! :D

**Chapter Song: **"Ordinary Day" by Vanessa Carlton

* * *

Arthur, finally, could manage a small grin and replied, "I must look like such a mess." He groaned, his voice still hoarse, "Honestly, crying like a little kid..."

Francis grinned, "Sometimes you have to let it all out, and having someone there when you cry makes it even better." He pulled Arthur a bit closer to him and cooed, "No need to feel bashful about telling someone something like this, _oui_? After all you've been through, you deserve to have someone hear you out."

Arthur sighed and blushed somewhat, "Well...thank you."

Francis replied, "Think nothing of it."

The smaller man stood and stretched his arms over his head, "So, where exactly is this apartment at? I shouldn't waste your time, and I need to get back to my own apartment so I can go to work this evening."

Francis looked dismayed, "After all you've been through...you're still going to go back? But why?"

Arthur blinked, "I don't have any other options. Alleric doesn't bring in very much income, and begging doesn't pay the bills." He headed towards the door, "So, where exactly do you...?" He was cut off by Francis standing up and pulling on his arm, refusing him to leave. Arthur met his gaze, his own full of confusion lingering in his eyes, "What the-? What are you doing?!"

Francis protested, "You can't possibly be willing to go back to that kind of pain, can you?"

Arthur glared at him, "Of course I'm not willing! You think it's fun getting yourself harshly fucked into a mattress every evening?! It's not! But I don't have any other choice!"

Francis asked, "You couldn't have chosen to live with somebody else?"

Arthur shook his head, "I can't bring my pain upon anyone else. Ludwig and Feliciano don't deserve it, and rooming with one of the whores will just make me go back. I don't have any other friends, and nobody else except you knows of my entire situation."

The longer-haired blonde replied, "Then just stay here."

Arthur blinked, "You'd want an angst-ridden whore who has no money to live under your roof?" To him, Francis seemed like he had lost his mind.

Francis shrugged, "You wouldn't be a burden, and I might be able to pull strings in order to get you a job at the place I work."

Arthur raised an eyebrow, "What do you do for work exactly?"

Francis smirked, "I'm a photographer. I go around Manhattan and the other districts, looking for stuff to take pictures of. I deliver whatever I can find to the magazines. I turn in what I managed to photograph to the distributor office."

The smaller blonde wasn't actually that surprised, Francis had the build and look of someone who was into more of the artistic pursuits. Arthur just wasn't sure if he'd enjoy a job in that area of profession, not that he should complain. Francis was already offering him to stay in his apartment, and a job on top of all that? Bloody hell, was this man a saint or something?

Arthur sighed, "Well, if you're certain that I won't be a burden..." Maybe he could just abandon his job at the Underbog, and leave his brother to lose the apartment. It's not as if Koehler and Alleric had given him much kindness anyway. Francis had done more of that in about an hour than they had in three months.

Francis grinned, "Good!" His phone buzzed in his pocket, starling the man, until he pulled the device out and glanced at what had triggered the noise. Arthur had owned a cell phone before Alfred had kicked him out, but with his phone being cut off from their cell phone plan, Arthur had just pawned it. Francis murmured, "_Merde..._" He looked up at Arthur and asked, "Mind coming with me today? It's already 10 am, and I need to get out on the streets to start working. Charlotte just sent me a text to remind me."

Arthur shrugged, "Sure, I guess." He would have preferred to stay in the apartment, or at least go out to the library or the likes. Being forced to tag along with Francis would make him feel like either a younger child or some sort of boyfriend figure, and he was most certainly neither. In any case, he pulled on his coat and followed Francis out the door. Maybe he could convince him during the trip there. He still needed to figure out where in Manhattan they were.

* * *

The frozen air smacked against Arthur's unprepared skin, causing him to immediately recoil and wrap his coat around his upper body tighter; seeing this, Francis wrapped an arm around Arthur, trying to give him some of the Frenchman's body heat. Despite the Brit pulling his hood up and clinging closer to Francis, he was far too cold for comfort, and he cursed the cruel December under his breath.

Arthur had managed to figure out that Francis's apartment was located on Chelsea St., go figure, and it wasn't super surprising due to the high gay population that lived here (Arthur had judged by now that Francis was more than likely gay). Though, he found it amusing that Francis was one of the "Chelsea boys", as they were commonly called.

Francis gave him a smile and spoke, "Although the temperature in this time of year is less to be desired, I like how little light we have during the days."

Arthur raised one of his thick eyebrows, "What does the amount of light a day has have to do with anything?"

Francis replied, "It sets a good tone for the city. When you think of New York City, what comes to your mind?"

Arthur hissed, "Cold, gritty, and harsh."

Francis shrugged, "I suppose that's acceptable from your perspective, but either way...nobody imagines sunny skies and happy people, _oui_?"

"Oui," Arthur mimicked rudely, "What's your point?"

"Don't be so dense, it's precisely the point. I like to take darker photos of the city, but the night doesn't allow such great photos. The winter days provide the best opportunity."

"I can never understand artists, they're so strange."

"Well, perhaps you've never given one a try? Who did you spend your time with growing up?"

"The ones that wanted to get ahead in life, readers, debaters, science kids."

"I meant interesting people."

"Readers and Debaters are interesting!"

"Maybe in their own way." They turned onto 10th Avenue and continued talking.

"Oh shut up. What good do artistic people like you give to the world?"

"Art, Music, Writers, Entertainment. Human society is wrapped around that all the time."

Arthur rolled his eyes, "The lot of that is rubbish for society. It won't help us advance our brains in any way." He wasn't telling the entire truth of his opinion, as he did love to read, and writers are required for that, but he wanted to one-up Francis.

"Then explain your case. Debaters, scientists, and people like that form to be people of power and knowledge. With that comes greed for said knowledge, and people who spawn from greed are our modern day politicians. They only care about their money and living fancy until they die from some medical problem that they caused for themselves."

He had a point, Arthur supposed, but he decided to defend his argument anyway, "How would have society evolved into industrialization and urbanization then? How would we have become smart enough to invent cell phones and computers and calculators? Hell, even your camera is a work of industrialization, frog."

Francis shrugged, "True. But you seem to detest this city and what goes on in it."

"I do."

"So, you're back to square one. How can you support something that you hate?"

"Well..." He had been caught.

"I trapped you, Arthur," Francis smirked.

"Yeah, yeah. I got it," Arthur huffed in annoyance. He looked up to see a higher up rail that was covered in greens. He had, unknowingly, been following Francis up the stairs to this location. He blinked, "Where are we going exactly?"

Francis replied, "The High Line." He questioned, "How can you live in Manhattan and not even know what the High Line is?"

Arthur growled, "I've never lived on this side of town, okay?"

"Fair enough, I suppose. But, now that you live on this side of town, this is the thing you need to get used to." He stepped onto the railing, and moved aside so that Arthur could take in the sight.

The railway had been transformed from an ugly and urban piece of metal into a park that looked like it extended for many blocks. It wasn't as lovely as the park he frequently visited on the other side of town, but to a civilian in the rugged New York City, this place seemed to be like a little slice of paradise.

"Wow."

"Looks like a compromise between mother nature and urban-loving humans, _oui_?" Francis interjected.

"I don't think you could be more right, honestly."

"It's the very thing I thought of when I first came here. It serves as a lovely place to take photos, since it has the city in the background, and nature in the foreground. Charlotte always demands me that I take more photos up here."

Arthur asked, "So, am I just supposed to stand around while you take photos for hours on end?"

Francis shrugged, "I suppose so?"

The Englishman growled, "You could have at least showed me the nearest library or something. Watching you work isn't as fun."

Francis hadn't bothered to reply, he simply picked up his camera and started snapping photos every couple minutes. As the minutes dragged onward and onward, Arthur felt his boredom growing and growing. If only he had a book, an MP3 player, or anything of the likes. He hoped that Francis didn't expect him to sit there and simply stare at him for however long this would last. On top of all that, Arthur was starting to get cold again.

He could remember from junior high school about learning how to keep oneself warm. Standing was the first step to doing so, and moving was the second. So, though he preferred to sit in a ball in order to keep himself from loosing more heat, he stood and leaned against the railing...looking out over the streets of New York. On this side of town, he noted that there was a lacking in the upscale department stores, and there wasn't a need to be very rich over here. When he lived on the other side of town, he could feel the eyes of blue-blooded individuals burning holes in his pathetic self constantly. Here, everyone seemed to be typically middle class citizens, and disdained the idea of a snobbish prick with millions in his pocket. He hadn't need to speak to any of them to draw that conclusion, but the way the people walked and talked to one another, it brought that sort of idea to mind.

He shivered, and he felt the wrapping of cloth around his neck. Flinching and turning to see Francis doing the deed, he rasped, "Mind if you say something before you put anything on me? You scared me." He grasped at the scarf, and adjusted it so that it fit comfortably around his neck.

Francis held up his hands, "Sorry, sorry. You looked cold, so I was trying to help." He grinned, "That scarf suits you much better than me anyways."

Arthur shrugged and went back to staring at the cold streets, dismissing the conversation from thought. It only resurfaced once he felt a hand in his hair, and it happened to be Francis messing with it, or arranging it, he supposed.

"What in the hell are you doing?!"

"Nothing."

Arthur growled, "Don't lie. What are you doing?"

"Can't you let a surprise be a surprise?"

"No."

"Kill-joy."

"Shut up. Give me an answer."

"The honest answer?"

"Yes."

"Okay, I've been taking pictures of you for the past fifteen minutes, and you're making a fabulous model."

Arthur's mouth dropped open, "Wait...what?!"

Francis sighed but still retained his signature smirk, "You wanted the honest truth, and I gave it to you."

"Don't take pictures of me! And don't try to call me a 'model' either!"

"Aw, but you fit in so well."

"Shut up!" He cursed inwardly that he could feel his cheeks gaining some color in embarrassment.

"Hear me out, Arthur. You had a kind of urban look, like if you belong here. And that's normally demonstrated through people who aren't paying attention."

"That's no excuse! Go take pictures of other people if you have to! Most people aren't paying attention to you anyway!"

"So rude." Francis pouted, "But you're much nicer looking than any of the other New Yorkers." He grinned once he noticed that Arthur's blush deepened, and added, "Besides, I don't know another person with cartilage piercings that add to the urban look you're giving me."

Arthur cupped his hand over his ear to hide them, and growled, "You sound like a photo shoot director."

Francis chuckled, "Exactly. And, I think I got enough pictures of you, so I think I can be done for today. I think Charlotte'll be happy with them."

Arthur snapped, "Don't even think about giving a company a picture of me! That's crazy! I don't want to appear in a magazine or something!"

Francis sighed, "Arthur, if they do like your picture, then it'll just appear in a photography magazine. Not a whole lot of people buy those."

He frowned, "I still don't like it."

Francis shrugged and wrapped an arm around Arthur's neck, "Well, I'm sorry. But, because of you, I can go home early and actually eat lunch." He led the man down the stairs off the High Line, and ignored the scowl that Arthur was wearing for him. "Maybe I can actually bring you to see Gil and Toni, too. I haven't told them about you yet, save the fact that I carried your body back to my apartment."

"Francis, do you ever think before you speak?"

"Of course I do!"

* * *

They reached a small brick-covered building, and Francis led Arthur inside. This was apparently the distribution office that Francis had been talking about.

He walked to one of the office rooms, where a girl with long sandy colored hair was doing paperwork. She looked up once Francis made his presence, known, and adjusted her thin-framed glasses. This must be Charlotte.

Giving a small smile, she greeted him, "You're early today, Francis. Come across a lucky penny or something?"

Francis laughed and started talking to the girl and showing her the photos on his camera. Arthur had zoned off from listening, looking around the fellow office rooms while Francis was busy with Charlotte. His eyes flickered between the people he could see in the office.

His eyes stopped on a small man who was chatting up a cute lady who was working behind the front desk. The man had short scruffy brown hair, and lighter brown eyes, with an alien curl that rested on the left side of his hair. Arthur had never spoken to him, but he had seen a photo of him that Ludwig carried in his wallet. Feliciano.

Stepping quietly out the door, he approached the man, who looked up once he heard Arthur's quiet footsteps. Acknowledging him with a smile, he spoke, "_Ciao_, is there anything I can help you with?"

Arthur said in a low voice, "Do you have a minute? I wanted to speak with you."

Feliciano nodded, "Sure! We can talk in my office."

Arthur was shocked by the man. He could remember Ludwig telling him how sweet and somewhat childish a person Feliciano was. He seemed cheerful and kind, but he supposed that he seemed more professional due to the fact that he was at work. Stepping into the office, Arthur noticed a picture of Feliciano and Ludwig hugging each other, and gave a small smile of relief. He wasn't just talking to a look-alike.

Feliciano smiled, "What can I do for you?"

Arthur replied, "Do you mind giving a message to Ludwig for me? He and I are old friends."

It took a minute, but the Italian's eyes widened, "Are you...Arthur Kirkland?" He gave a hesitant nod, and Feliciano continued, "Ludwig told me about you. He said you were having some financial problems."

Arthur felt the blood drain from his face.

Feliciano looked worried, "Are you okay? Ludwig offered for you to come stay with us, didn't he?"

Arthur nodded, "He did. I'm doing fine now, though. I'm staying with one of the photographers who works here."

Feliciano giggled, "Francis?"

"Yeah, you know him?"

"We're acquaintances, but Ludwig's brother is friends with him, and my brother is dating one of Francis's friends as well. So, he's a common name in my circle, I suppose."

"That's odd, but convenient. Mind if I write something for Ludwig?"

"_Si_. I'll give it to him for you."

Writing out a quick note, Arthur told Ludwig that he no longer needed to worry about how he was doing, and that he was living with Francis. He also gave him the apartment and room number, just in case.

He headed back into the hallway to see Francis looking around for him (presumably), and he came up to him once he spotted him. He asked, "Where'd you go? I didn't even realize you left."

Arthur scratched the back of his head, "I was talking to Feliciano. I wanted him to give Ludwig something for me."

Francis blinked, "You know Ludwig? I'm friends with his brother."

Arthur nodded, "Feliciano told me that too. Yes, I know him. We were old friends."

Francis shrugged, "That's interesting. Well, ready to head back home? I'm going to make lunch."

It took Arthur to process that "home" now meant his apartment with Francis, and he sighed, "As long as it's something good, I'll join you." They headed out the door and down the street.

"Something good? I'm French. I'm gourmet. I can make anything taste good!"

"Whatever. I'll be the judge of that."

"And afterwards, I'll call Toni and Gil, and have them meet us at a bar tonight."

"What do you mean 'us'?"

"You're coming too. They've only seen you once, and that was your unconscious body. They actually want to meet the person they helped me carry upstairs to the apartment."

"Thanks for making me feel uncomfortable Francis."

"You're very welcome!"

* * *

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	6. The Advice from Good Friends

**Author's Note: **As promised, the other two members of the BTT make their appearance! :3 Thanks again to everyone who has commented, favorited, followed, ect. my story. I wish I could give you all a hug, but that'd be impossible and a little weird. Also, if there's anything that you're confused about or want to know, feel free to ask in the comments. The only time I won't answer something is because it would be a spoiler alert for later on in the story. Enjoy~! :D

**Chapter Song: **"Always" by Panic! At the Disco

* * *

After the trip to the distribution office, the rest of the week had been practically therapeutic for Arthur. He could just relax and not have to worry about prepping himself for late night sessions at the Underbog. He was sipping on tea instead of vile-tasting water, and dinner that day had been well-prepared seafood instead of murky and cold chili heated up early in the day. Despite the occasional annoyances from Francis over the last couple of days, Arthur was entirely grateful to him. Maybe he could learn to call this place "home" eventually.

Every day had been practically a joy. The two of them would walk around town and talk, followed by something entirely different, and then more talking on the way back to the apartment.

During these times, Arthur and Francis had learned quite a bit about each other. At first, the speaking of darker secrets was minimal, until Francis had assured that he would neither laugh nor judge him by anything he said. The taller blond had learned that Arthur once had a hobby of embroidery and he was terrified of water, which kept him and Alfred from ever going to the beach for the three years they were together; and, the shorter blond listened to the secrets of Francis having extreme cyberphobia and wishing he could live in the countryside in France so that he could pick up on gardening again.

At the current moment, Arthur was reading a fiction novel that seemed to be based off William Shakespeare's play of "Hamlet" by the lamp light, and listening to Francis talking on the phone. Well, honestly, he couldn't pick up very much since the man was occasionally whispering, and the laughing was masking any words. What was beginning to irk the Brit was what he COULD hear: an over excessive amount of pet names and sweet words. Arthur didn't need to hear Francis flirting with some no-named individual on the other side of the line, and the thought of the other person blushing and whispering the same things back was starting to piss him off.

He most certainly wasn't interested in overhearing a private conversation, but he couldn't will himself to get up and move away. Either a lack of motivation to stand or a small nagging feeling to know was keeping him stuck to the seat.

Francis gave a glance at Arthur, and said into the phone, "Au revior, mon amis." Clicking the line off, he hung up the phone and sat down on the cushion near the chair that Arthur was sitting in. He grinned, "That was Toni and Gil. They're going to meet us at the bar tomorrow night." Oh, that's right. Francis had been trying to get the two to meet with the duo ever since the first day Arthur started living with him. Between work, spending time with their boyfriends, and other circumstances...both hadn't had the time to go to a bar.

Arthur raised an eyebrow, "Your friends? You sounded like you were having phone-sex with some individual." He narrowed his eyes, "Unless phone-sex between your friends is perfectly normal for you."

Francis's mouth fell agape in shock, and pouted, "How rude!" He gently cupped Arthur's face between his palms, causing the Englishman to give him a sour face. "C'mon Artie, they've been wanting to meet you for a week, can't you at least try to be nice? Or at least not look so angst-ridden all the time?"

Arthur snapped, "No. And I'm not full of angst every minute of the day!"

Francis sighed, "Sure, sure." Yawning, he released Arthur's face and stretched his arms above his head, "It's getting late anyways, I'm going to go to bed." He stood up and made his way to the kitchen to eat the last shrimp that was resting in one of the bowls of cocktail sauce. He suddenly froze in place, and turned back to look at the Brit, who had gone back to reading by now.

"You don't want to keep sleeping of a sofa, do you?" he asked, somewhat softly. The question made Arthur raise his head. Francis had failed to process that Arthur had been sleeping in chairs and on the sofa for the week, and never considered that he may want an actual bed to sleep on.

"Well, if you can provide a bed, I'll sleep on it."

"I do have a bed...but..."

"I am not sleeping in the same bed as you."

"C'mon Arthur, it's not like I have ulterior motives or something!"

"Sure, whatever. But I'm still not sleeping with you."

"Wouldn't you rather have a real blanket, with real pillows..."

"Oh shut up, stop being so bloody annoying!"

"It would be warmer than sleeping on a sofa."

This offer was beginning to sound very nice, "Stop that! I said no, and no is my final answer! Now shut up and leave me be!"

"...it won't smell like dust, and you'll have me..."

"For fuck's sakes, Francis! Fine! I'll sleep in your bed!"

"This'll be...!"

"If you say one damn sentence that sounds like a pre-teen girl having a sleepover with a group of friends, I'll push you out the fucking window."

Francis didn't reply, but in his mind, he thought, 'I was just going to say that this'll be something you won't regret. Where's the harm in that?'

He led Arthur to his room, and headed inside the bathroom to give Arthur some privacy. Sure enough, Arthur took advantage of the separation, and pulled off his clothes, abandoning them in a pile by the side of the bed, and got under the covers. Francis was right, it was much more comfortable than a couch or chair could ever hope to be. He immediately warmed up, and pressed one of his cheeks to the pillows, his eyes dropping closed.

Arthur could feel whenever Francis had climbed into bed beside him, as the weight distribution of the bed changed; however, he didn't even stir. Odd, he normally would have snapped for the Frenchman to not sleep so close to him, but he was more focused on gaining some more hours of sleep by resting in a bed. It wasn't until he felt fingers brush over his arm, and lock themselves there when he hissed, "Touch me again and the fingers come off." He nearly grimaced whenever he thought he heard Francis let out a disappointed mewl and retreat the fingers. But soon, his anger faded and he drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

* * *

The next morning, Arthur awoke first, though he hadn't realized it at the time. He was trying to relieve the tension in his arms by stretching them over his head, when he noticed that they were trapped between two other arms. Francis indeed had been coiled around Arthur, almost protectively in a sense. It was everything Arthur could do to not blush a little. Attempting to squirm out of Francis's grip on him, he heard the other man groan softly when the source of body heat was removed from his grasp. Moving away enough so that he couldn't be pulled back into the position he was formerly in, Arthur got up from the bed and headed into the living room.

It was odd being up before Francis. Normally, Arthur awoke to the smell of something from the kitchen, but not today. He was far too tired to attempt cooking something, so he decided to just wander aimlessly around the apartment until he could get a hot "gourmet" breakfast.

Photos littered the walls of the apartment, probably due to Francis's love for photography. Some were fascinating photos of the city skylines, or scenes from a local park; however, quite a few did include the Frenchman himself. One had him and two friends passed out, more than likely drunk, somewhere in a party. These two made their appearances in a lot of his photos, so he could only assume that these two were Gilbert and Antonio.

Although, there were a few photos that caught Arthur's eye specifically. Four of them were pictures of Francis with Charlotte, and he felt something prick at him. Those two seemed so close, friendlier than just co-workers. And, there was another with a different girl, alongside a photo booth picture strip of the two of them as well. This girl had lighter and shorter blonde hair than Charlotte, and her eyes were more periwinkle than just plain blue. The two seemed so happy together, as if they had been in a relationship. It almost reminded him of all those photos of him and Alfred together. Arthur wasn't one to pry into another person's business, but the photos of the girls were concerning him for some reason. Made his stomach churn uncomfortably.

It wasn't long after that Francis awoke and came into the living room, where he saw Arthur poking around, gazing at the photos on his wall. From there, breakfast was made and the day went on with chatting. The climax of the day would be in the evening, at the bar...although, Arthur wasn't exactly ecstatic about the situation. He was never fond of meeting new people.

Nevertheless, when the hour arrived, he reluctantly pulled on a coat and didn't sneer when Francis wrapped a scarf around his neck - the same one he let him wear on the High Line, in fact - and followed him out the door with only a few complaints.

* * *

The walk to the bar wasn't long, as Francis had asked for his friends to spare a few more blocks since they had delayed the meeting for a week. Though, the Frenchman had actually done it for Arthur's benefit. He didn't want the Brit to be moody about a long walk. Francis wanted Gil and Toni's first impression of Artie to be positive, and he was trying to do all he could to keep him somewhat happy.

Opening the door for him as a gentleman, Francis gave Arthur a small smile. Unfortunately, his response wasn't as kind as the gesture, "I'm not a lady, idiot. I don't need you to hold a door open for me." Arthur rolled his eyes and stepped inside. He was so cold to Francis, but he didn't want to appear like a delicate feminine thing that Francis managed to take in.

Inside, Francis spotted his friends sitting at a private table at the back, along with their respective lovers. Taking Arthur's palm in his own, he led him to the corner of the pub, where the four individuals looked up and smiled (save Lovino) at him.

Gilbert, already drinking, smirked, "Took you long enough, Francy." He teased, "What kept you so long? Vainly staring at yourself in the mirror as always?"

Antonio rolled his green eyes, "Don't mind him, Francis, he's drunk. It's nice to see you again." He moved over so that he and Arthur could sit down as well. Sliding in comfortably, Arthur pulled off the scarf and removed his coat, since the pub was too warm to be comfortable in winter clothes.

Francis looked to him and spoke, "These two are Antonio and Gilbert." When Arthur nodded he continued. Pointing to the brown-haired man next to Antonio, he said, "That's Lovino, Antonio's boyfriend..." Lovino gave him a glare and a grunt, and Francis whispered to Arthur, "...And he's in a sour mood as always." Next he pointed to the blonde lad who was watching Gilbert down another swig of beer, "This is Matthew, Gilbert's boyfriend."

Arthur felt his breath hitch a little. This was Alfred's younger brother. It was a little scary on how much the two looked alike, now that he imagined it. When Matthew noticed that Arthur had been staring, he spoke in his soft voice, "Is something the matter, Arthur?" Oh thank god, they don't sound alike at all.

Francis asked Gilbert, "You know where the other drinks are? Why are we left out from all the drinking?"

Gilbert smirked, "I brought this in with me, since I didn't know how long it would be before those scrawny bartenders behind the counter finally got their asses moving and brought something over here."

Matthew, surprisingly to the entire group, stood and called out across the pub, "Oi! It's been a half hour! How long does it take to get a few drinks, eh?!" Arthur had the urge to bury his face in his hands, maybe he did sound like his older brother after all. Someone needed to shoot him.

Gilbert pulled his lover back down into his seat, and wrapped one arm around his waist, and poked his nose with his index finger, "Calm down, birdie. You can have some of mine if you're that thirsty." He gave him a smirk, and pulled Mattie in a little closer to him.

Matthew pouted, "I wanted wine, though."

Gilbert rolled his eyes, "Just like Francis, can't seem to be bothered with any other drink than weak-ass wine."

Matthew giggled, "_Nein, leibling_. I just think German beer's a bit too strong for me."

Gilbert grinned, "Y'know I love it when you speak French, and even more when you speak German, right?"

Matthew blushed a little, pecking Gilbert on the lips, "_Oui_."

Antonio sighed like a girl watching a sappy romance flick, and Lovino just rested his cheek on Antonio's shoulder, almost scowling...but not close enough. Arthur wasn't sure if he was a fan of watching the two of them share such an intimate moment in front of their friends, but he could admit that it was kind of cute.

Lovino then sat back up and looked to Arthur. He spoke, "So, you're dating the wine-bastard?"

Arthur's eyes shot open, and before he could loudly object to such an idea, Antonio spoke for him, "He's only living with him, Lovi, at least as far as I know."

Arthur rudely spat, "We're not dating, thank you very much!"

Lovino replied non too quietly, "It's not gonna stay that way for long, though..." He spoke in a bored tone, as if this kind of situation was normal for his French companion. Arthur snorted in disgust, which made Francis scowl at the Italian. Great, there goes his attempt at a good first impression.

* * *

The night carried on, nonetheless, and eventually the group managed to split in two. All it had taken was for Gilbert to attempt to talk the lot into some kind of disgusting drinking game. Once he had his eyes set on Matthew first, Lovino snatched the Canadian's arm and pulled Arthur out of the area to the bar counter. The remaining three didn't pay it any mind and went on talking, after shooting down the drinking game possibility.

Matthew ordered the three of them small shots of whatever they wanted, and he turned to Arthur, "I noticed that you were staring when Francis first introduced me, was anything the matter?"

Nearly choking on the scotch, he replied, "...It was nothing."

Matthew protested, "Don't lie, please. I just want to know."

Lovino added, "It's not like those three bastards back there can say anything if your up here with us." Arthur thought that perhaps this was the first time he heard the man speak anything at least half-nicely.

Arthur scratched at the back of his ear, and groaned, "You just...look so much like your brother. And you sound like him whenever you yell."

Matthew blinked, "How is that..." he cut himself off and his eyes widened up in shock. "Wait..."

Lovino demanded out of confusion, "What? What the hell is going on Mattie?"

"You're...you were Alfred's fiancé...?"

Arthur sighed and nodded, causing Matthew to become immediately distressed. His words spilled out of his mouth quickly, "Oh my god, I'm so sorry! I had no idea, and I feel really bad because I should have known you...oh god! No wonder you were surprised! I'm really sorry about my brother, he's kind of a dick sometimes; and when he told me, it took all of my strength not to call him an idiot and I...!" Arthur cut him off by placing a palm over the his mouth.

Arthur shushed him, "It's okay, Matthew. It wasn't your fault."

The younger man replied softly, "Should I talk to Alfred for you?"

Arthur shook his head, "It's not necessary. What happened is what happened." He sounded much more calm about that situation then how he actually felt about it.

Matthew asked, "Well, are you alright now...?"

The older man hesitated and soon answered, "I'm getting there...Francis has helped me start getting over it."

Lovino, starting to feel a little left out asked, "So, Toni told me that he carried you off the street, what's the deal with that?"

Arthur frowned. Right, they had helped him get that accomplished. "Well, I had been drinking a little heavily one night, and a friend of mine injected some stuff in me, and I passed out. Francis happened to find me, and I guess he called Antonio and Gilbert to help him drag me up into his apartment." He felt himself blushing at the awkward statement he just shared with Lovino and Matthew. How in the world could have something like that sound so much better in his head?

After a brief moment of silence, Matthew spoke, "A friend injected you with drugs?"

Lovino snorted, "Sounds like a lousy friend to me. Mattie'd never do something like that to me, even if I asked him."

Arthur replied, "Well...it's complicated..."

Matthew blinked, "How is it complicated?"

Arthur nearly raised his voice, "Why do you want to know so damn much?"

Lovino snapped, "Because if you're with Francis, you gotta face the fact that that'll basically make you a friend of ours. Me and Mattie met through tomato-bastard and albino-bastard back there. If wine-bastard brings in somebody, then they'll more than likely become friends with us."

Matthew laughed, "Unless it's potato-bastard, right Lovi?"

Lovino crossed his arms, "Amen. I'd rather drop dead before I become friendly with him! Just because he screws Feli doesn't mean I have to like him!"

Arthur couldn't hold back a laugh, and it made Lovino and Matthew smile a little.

* * *

As Antonio and Gilbert talked, Francis felt his attention on them slowly disappearing, and it became more and more present on Arthur. He gave a relieved smile when he saw him laugh at something Lovino had said. Perhaps being with only those two would have fared better anyway for him. Gil and Toni were great friends, but they could occasionally make another person feel very uncomfortable.

Antonio waved a hand in front of Francis' face, causing him to snap back into focus at his two best friends. He blinked, "Ah, sorry, what were you saying?"

Gilbert gave an amused smirk and raised one of his eyebrows, "What's the deal with you staring at Arthur like a fox stares at a rabbit he's hungry for?"

Francis gaped, "That's disgusting Gil!"

Gilbert shrugged, "But it's you. You're Francis. The master of seduction. The prince of love. The perverse stalker of..."

Francis growled, "Oh shut up. Those things were only true when I was in high school."

Antonio laughed, "Either way Francy, you do seem to be very attached to him."

Francis stole a quick gaze at Arthur and sighed, "I don't know...I'm kind of concerned myself. I've only known him for a week."

Gilbert shrugged, "If you're in love, you're in love. Seriously, Francy you act like this situation's never happened before."

Francis blinked, "Come again?"

Gilbert rolled his eyes, "In high school and college, you were the Casanova, the Romeo, the damn Prince Charming! You would immediately defend the belief that 'love at first sight' was real. Arthur seems to be one of those people, and now you're not believing it."

Antonio joined in, "Gil's right. You've never been so skittish before about anybody who's caught your fancy. Why him?"

Francis sighed, "He's different...okay? This whole situation is just...not the same."

Gilbert asked, "Gonna keep it a secret from us?"

Francis twiddled his thumbs, "Well, I guess...just don't talk about it to him or anything. He'll hate me for that."

Antonio nodded, "Yeah, we can do that. Tell us."

The Frenchman told his two friends everything that he had learned about Arthur, their faces reading nothing but shock and surprise.

Antonio frowned sadly, "That's awful..." Gilbert only nodded silently in agreement.

Francis sighed, "You see? I do like him, but if I act on that too quickly then he'll..."

Gilbert said in a low voice, "Turn you away out of fear?"

He nodded, "Most likely."

Antonio gave a hopeful smile, "This reminds me of how I became lovers with Lovi." Gilbert and Francis gave him curious eyebrows, wondering what could be enough to make the Spaniard smile so easily. "Lovi wasn't cheated on or anything, but he suffered from a low self-esteem. Artie could be suffering from that too, seems like...which would explain his rude behavior. What I did for my Lovino is I got him to trust me, by slowly healing away his self esteem issue. What you need to do Francis, is get him to trust you by showing him that he is important and that he's strong enough to move on from Alfred."

Gilbert frowned, "Must be a bit awkward for him to be talking to his brother...I'd certainly be."

Francis gave a gracious smile to Antonio, "Where would I be without you Toni?"

Antonio gave him a laugh, and when Lovino quickly approached, he looked up to him. He grinned, "Ah, speak of the..."

"Wine-bastard, Arthur drank too much and now he's passed out on the floor."

Francis looked over and saw that Lovino wasn't lying; Matthew was freaking out, trying to figure out what he should do to help. He freaked as well, and said a quick goodbye to Antonio and Gilbert before running over to Arthur.

* * *

The two other friends watched with curious eyes as they saw Francis carrying Arthur on his back out of the bar.

Gilbert smirked, "He kind of reminds me of myself whenever I first met Mattie."

Antonio sighed, "It's strange how someone can have no problems giving advice to a friend, yet it's difficult to take the same advice whenever they're the ones in need of it." He then asked, "Do you think he'll be alright?"

Gilbert took a swig of beer, "Please Toni. This is Francis we're talking about. I'm sure he'll figure it all out, and soon Arthur will be just like my Mattie and your Lovi, dating one of the best men in Manhattan."

Antonio gave a smile when Gilbert was looking, but when he wasn't...it was turned into an uncertain frown. If it's so soon after a tragic breakup with a fiancé, would Arthur even be close to ready to forget Alfred and take Francis in his place?

* * *

**Tell me what you think~! :)**


	7. Apartment Life: Staring Artie and Francy

**Author's Note: **Woo! New Chapter! Like I said before, if any of you guys have any questions or anything like that, I'll be more than happy to answer them (unless it would be a spoiler). Thanks so much to my favoriters, followers, and reviewers~! When I get the emails that say I've gotten another one of you guys, it makes me so happy. :) Special reviewer thanks to Francey-pants98 and Tenbinza (along with everyone else who I've mentioned before), you guys make me smile and I love reading your reviews. :3

**Chapter Song: **"Follow Me" by Uncle Kracker (I love this song so much!)

* * *

"Arthuuuuuuur." Oh shut up.

"Arthuuuuuuuuuuuur." Go away.

"Arthur! I know you're awake so stop feigning sleep!"

Lifting his head from the pillows, Arthur glared at Francis, who had made himself comfortable on the edge of the bed. Glued to the man's face was a false hurt pout, which was beginning to annoy the hell out of him. "If you're so thick-skulled, then allow me to remind you that I have a bloody hangover! Shut the hell up and let me sleep!"

Francis sighed when Arthur pushed his face back into the pillow, trying to block out the Frenchman's chatter. He spoke, "It's not exactly healthy to sleep for as long as you have. Get up. I'll make you breakfast."

Arthur merely groaned something into the pillow that Francis was unable to decipher. Not his fault that he wasn't educated in pillow-speak. So, he tried another approach. Lying down next to Arthur, he started rubbing the arm that was close to him, and felt a stroke of triumph pass through him whenever Arthur raised his head.

"I'll make something good. Go take a shower," he ordered lightly.

Arthur, surprisingly, surrendered right away and nodded, murmuring something that Francis assumed was an "okay". He sat up and headed towards the bathroom, letting out a yawn. Sleeping for fourteen hours really did wear one out.

Francis got up and headed out into the living room and to the kitchen. He knew that fried foods and a man suffering a hangover were best friends, so he simply stuck with frying bacon and eggs. Pouring the beaten eggs into the pan, Francis's mind drifted towards last night.

_He had just dropped Arthur onto the bed whenever he heard his phone go off. Struggling to pull the noisy object free, he pressed the "Send" key to cut off the song playing _("Mein Gott!", in fact)_ and hissed into the receiver, "Gil, what now?! I just got back home and Arthur's already sleeping!" Damn, he sounded more like a thirty six year old father rather than a twenty four year old bachelor with a roommate._

_"You do realize that you sound more like a father than a guy with a roommate, right?"_

_"_Oui_, I know. What do you want?"_

_"Toni bothered me to call up and check on you. But since you said that you're home, I guess you don't need us to drag your boyfriend up the stairs."_

_"I don't." Francis nearly snarled._

_"Don't sound so hurt, Francy. You know I'm teasing you about the boyfriend thing, right?"_

_"Yeah, but, it's not that I mind that."_

_"Aw. Well, since Toni took up all your attention at the bar, it's my turn to give advice." Francis was a little surprised by the gesture. The albino was normally not one to offer up advice, as the Frenchman was usually the one dealing out advice. "So, does Artie seem like he has anything towards you?"_

_"Well, he's rude and snaps at me and-"_

_"No! _Dummkopf_, I meant does he show any hints that he may like you?"_

_Francis took a minute to think, "He's not as closed off anymore, he smiles around me some more, he's even cried in front of me a few times and seeks comfort from me, and he likes curling up with me when I sleep. Do those count?"_

_"It could be, but from the story you told us, he may just be looking for someone to make him feel safe."_

_"Oh." Well, that was a bust._

_"I wouldn't call those steps backwards though. Trust is the first step, and you may haven't even needed Toni's advice. Arthur seems to already start trusting you. If I were you, I'd start slowly doing things that were more intimate. Getting all this Francy?"_

_"_Oui._"_

_"_Gut!_ So, start working your French magic and you should be fine. I gotta go, Mattie accidentally let Gilbird out of his cage, and now he's flying around the apartment."_

_From the other line, Francis could hear Matthew shouting, "Can't we roast this stupid ass bird, Gil?! Gah! Gilbird pecked me!"_

_Gilbert sounded like he was holding the phone away from his face in order to avoid breaking Francis's eardrums, "_Nein!_ Gilbird's one of the family too! Ow! _Sheiße!_" Gilbert quickly quipped a "Bye Francy!" and hung up._

Setting the eggs on the plate, Francis realized that perhaps his friend's advice wasn't so farfetched. Arthur had only been upset with him because he was waking him up while he was nursing a hangover, and he hadn't been very quiet about it. And, he hadn't even glared at or outright smacked Francis whenever he stroked his arm. That was kind of intimate, right?

Sighing, he realized that he was more than likely loosing his touch. He remembered all through college that ladies and men alike would fall head over heels to be his object of affection, and now he couldn't figure out what was romantic and what wasn't. He thought with a sad smile, 'Damn Arthur, are you trying to turn off the romancy part of me?'

The person dwelling in his mind at the moment had trudged into the living room by now, drying his hair off with a towel. He looked up and gave a small sheepish smile to Francis and sat down at the table. Despite the ringing question of whether or not Gilbert was right for once attempting to take control of Francis's thoughts, he managed to serve Arthur breakfast without appearing suspicious.

* * *

Arthur was finding it obvious that something was eating at Francis, and it was almost irritating at how much it was showing on his face. Jeez, he doesn't react poorly to waking up in bed with a hangover, and now Earth's flipped upside down for Francis? It's not like he was rude and bitchy by nature!

Biting off a piece of egg, he reminisced about the previous evening. Lovino and Matthew, although they probably didn't realize it, had helped him see that wallowing over Alfred wouldn't bring back his affection for him. That's just the way it was. Letting himself continue to be so attached to Alfred while living under Francis's roof wasn't quite fair. He knew it'd be a hard thing to do, but he'd have to let go eventually. His haunted memories of the last three months would bring him down if he couldn't find the strength to move on from them, and Francis was pulling most of the weight for that. It was about time that he starting doing something on his own.

He asked, chewing on the fried eggs, "Francis, do you have to work today?"

Francis looked up at him and shook his head, "_Non_, Charlotte told me that I'd be fine until next week." He gave him a smirk accompanied by a wink, "Your modeling skills I think have saved my working career this week."

Arthur gave a small non-too-innocent grin back, "Glad that I could be of service." He looked to him out of the corner of his eye and added, "One thing though..."

Francis replied, "_Oui_?"

Arthur growled, "I don't ever want to hear you call me a model again."

"But you're so good at it though! That could be your new job!"

"A professional model? No."

"I meant like the models you see in store catalogues."

"Still, no."

"Models make good pay..."

"The next time you say the word 'model', I'm going to cut your tongue out." He threatened, waving around the butter knife in his palm. When Francis didn't say anything else, Arthur smirked, "Glad to hear that my message was received." He took his plate to the sink and started washing it out, alongside Francis who was also washing dishes.

Once all the dishes had been cleaned and put away, the two men found themselves on the couch, unsure of what to do or talk about next. Although both of them hadn't really wanted to do anything else besides spend time with the other, they were turning up blank at the moment.

"Arthur?" Francis decided to speak first.

"Hm?"

"Do you trust me?"

Arthur looked over at him and raised an eyebrow, "...what did you do or what are you planning on doing?"

Francis sighed, "Nothing, it's just a question. Do you trust me?"

Arthur rolled his eyes, "Of course I trust you, stupid git. You've done enough to earn my trust, so I trust you. Why do you ask?"

"I just wasn't sure is all. I wanted to know."

"Okay..."

"Yeah."

Arthur sighed and sat up, "Are we going to sit here and just be bored all day and talk like this?"

"Do you want to go out and do something?"

"Umm...not particularly."

"What do you want to do here then?"

"I don't know..."

"So shut up and be bored, Artie."

"Rude."

"One to talk."

Arthur frowned, and practically crawled over to Francis, "I'm still intrigued by that question you asked. And I'd like to ask you the same thing."

Francis blinked, "Do I trust you?'

Arthur nodded, and Francis smiled, "_Oui_, though you can be a pain in the ass."

"Why do you trust me though? I'm practically a stowaway that you took in under kindness."

Francis sighed, "You still think of yourself as merely a freeloader?"

"Living the way I did, and then coming into something like this makes me feel like one." Arthur looked a bit sorry, "I'm practically an intruder and a burden. I don't understand why you choose to keep me around."

The taller man wrapped his arms around Arthur's waist, pulling him closer to him so that Arthur was practically lying on top of him, "I don't think you're a burden at all. Do you hear me complain?"

Arthur wasn't satisfied just yet, "Prove it to me."

Francis thought for a moment and smirked, "Can I have until the end of the day?"

The shorter man was about to open his mouth and call that such a request was ridiculous and if he simply couldn't stand him, then there was no point in lying. However, this request could possibly be pointing in the other direction. Francis could have something worthy of waiting for by the end of the day. Why not humor him? Arthur nodded, "Certainly."

"That's awfully generous of you, Arthur."

"Of course, I'm a gentleman."

"You really don't come off as a gentleman."

"Then you're blind."

"No, your bitchiness just happens to block it all out."

"I am not bitchy!"

"Please, you PMS more than a teenage girl half the time."

After a bout of arguing, Francis had gone into their room, claiming that he wanted to look for his Polaroid camera for next week. Arthur remained seated on the couch, almost tempted to pick up the television remote and try to figure out how to work one again. He hadn't watched TV for three months, and whenever he and Alfred were still together, the American was usually the one in charge of changing television stations. It's not as if Arthur watched a whole lot of TV to begin with, but he would watch soccer tournaments (much to Alfred's disdain, since he felt like the only interesting sports to watch were football, basketball, and hockey) or a movie, if one was on (not that he could usually sit through an entire movie, Alfred would start out judging why he was watching the movie, and then would be drawn in eventually and start protesting at everything he didn't approve of). So, long story short, Arthur usually stayed away from it.

Feeling a wave of hunger pass over him, Arthur opened his mouth to call Francis to make something, but closed it again. All through his relationship with Alfred, he wasn't allowed to cook, and attempting to do so would cause his former fiancé to banish him away for a few days until he regained the trust of being able to walk in the kitchen. Francis, however, had no idea about his cooking skills. Perhaps this would be a good opportunity for him to try once again and make something. Cooking was something that could always be improved, and having bad taste and bad skills in the kitchen (he would swear until the day he died) was NOT hereditary. He just needed more opportunities to practice.

* * *

Francis was currently seated on his and Arthur's bed, leafing through the photographs that he had taken with the Polaroid and the other cameras he owned. Every now and again, Francis would pull out the large cardboard box that had turned into a photo gallery. He had always aspired to finally get photo books to hold them all, but never got around to it. Besides, sitting down and doing that was a tedious job. Though, maybe if he bought some, Arthur could do that for him. The Brit didn't get bored reading for hours on end, so maybe he wouldn't mind a couple hours of them placing photos in the slots of photo books.

Suddenly, he looked up from his photos at the smell of something burning. He hadn't let anything sit on the stove, had he? Heading out the door of the bedroom, he looked to see Arthur standing at the stove, in the process of making who the hell knows what.

"Arthur, what in the hell are you doing?"

The Brit looked back at him, "Making lunch."

"You're burning the food." He sighed, maybe this is why his former fiancé had forbidden him from the kitchen on occasion.

Arthur furrowed his thick eyebrows together, "I think I know what I'm doing."

Francis came into the kitchen and tried to grab the spoon that Arthur was using, "No you don't. Give me the spoon."

Arthur snapped, "I'm twenty three, Francis! I can cook for myself! Stop trying to grab the damn spoon! I highly doubt you know how to make chicken tikka masala correctly anyway!"

"I doubt you do either, so shut up and give me the spoon!" Francis had no idea how Arthur could be so bad at cooking that he was burning the only thing he had in the pot: tomato sauce. The Frenchman gripped Arthur's arms, trying to keep him from swinging out at him. Firstly, it'd hurt if he got hit. Secondly, there was sauce on that spoon. Thirdly, he was certain that it was very hot and burnt. But, with Arthur still struggling, he'd have to get the spoon somehow without hurting either of them. Only one choice left.

Without hesitation, Francis leaned in and pressed his lips against Arthur's. He felt the smaller man tense up in shock. Only mere seconds ago Francis had locked his palms around his wrists, and now he was kissing him?! Despite the initial surprise, Arthur felt himself start to relax and his eyes slid shut, trying to kiss back. Damn, he was a really good kisser.

Francis felt Arthur's muscles loosening, and he took his opportunity to quickly grasp the spoon and pull it out of his hand, and hid it behind his back, ending the kiss and pulling away. Arthur furrowed his eyebrows, not pushing him away though, and snarled, "...You bastard!"

Francis gave a small smirk, "You wouldn't give it to me..."

Arthur growled, "That was a dirty trick, you damned git!" He inwardly cursed his reddening cheeks.

Francis sighed, "I'm sorry," he gave Arthur a brief kiss, "does that make it any better?"

"No." A little...

Francis stole the pot of blackened tomato sauce off the stove and washed it out, along with the spoon, in the sink. Arthur merely looked on, a pout present on his face; his flushed cheeks hadn't started paling back up again, and he touched his lips whenever Francis wasn't looking. The Frenchman spoke, "Look, Arthur, if you're hungry, you just have to tell me and I'll gladly make you something." Turning around to look back at him, he spoke, "I wouldn't exactly be happy if you burned down the apartment building, we'd get fined a lot for that."

Arthur gave no comment, still sour about the whole kiss thing. He had said that he would prove that he trusted him, and he was threatening to lose a couple points on his own trust meter. It wasn't that he was angry that Francis had kissed him out of the blue, it was that he had taken advantage of a vulnerable moment and stole his spoon. When the thought ran through his brain, he almost laughed, it was so childish. The two had fought over a spoon. How old were they, five?

Still, being taken advantage of was something that Arthur was used to, especially during whenever he was vulnerable. Stealing a spoon was something minor, but to him it still shared the same problem.

Francis had noticed the faraway look in Arthur's eyes, and almost sighed aloud. He accidentally struck one of his nerves. Abandoning the pot in the sink, he dried his hands and walked over to the brooding man, wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling him closer. Arthur's attention snapped back into reality once he felt Francis put his hands on him, but didn't protest when he felt their bodies get closer. Francis realized that perhaps Antonio and Gilbert's advice had been a bit too late. Arthur clearly had no problem being kissed and held and the likes. Now the question was: what exactly did he feel towards him?

He frowned a little, "I'm sorry about taking advantage of you whenever I kissed you. If you hadn't been so stubborn, I wouldn't have taken the spoon and cut it off there."

Arthur felt blood rush to his cheeks and he nearly hissed, unable to form any words at the moment.

"Feeling better?"

At once, Arthur erupted, "Of course I'm not, stupid git! How would you feel if you had one the best kisses in your life and it was cut short because your partner stole a damn spoon out of your hand?!"

Francis chuckled slightly, "I can't believe how childish we sound, talking about stealing a spoon. Are we really men in our twenties?" Arthur laughed along with him, and raised himself on his toes to kiss Francis. He would never admit aloud that he was hungry to kiss him again, but having only kissed Alfred before (and Koehler, but that didn't exactly count) he felt like a hormone-crazed teenager. Alfred's kisses were typically inexperienced and heated for only a few moments that the kiss was tender. Francis, on the other hand, was skilled as if it was his job to kiss people.

* * *

The rest of the day went by quickly, as all they did was sit there and just kiss and touch each other. Now they were on the couch, sharing another kiss, twisting their tongues together, friction gaining between them. Francis pulled away and asked, "Did you want to eat dinner?"

Arthur just snarled a "Shut up" at him, and started kissing the Frenchman again. Francis was more than surprised. He wasn't sure if it was love or lust that was driving Arthur's actions, but whatever it was...he could probably get used to it pretty damn quick. He picked up one of Arthur's hands, and started kissing his fingers. Francis could hear Arthur's breath hitch slightly whenever he kissed his third finger, still holding the old engagement ring on it. Arthur blushed, his face dropping in guilt. "I should really take it off...it's not right to-"

Francis cut him off, "There's no need to feel guilty about anything, Arthur. The betrayal wasn't your own." He ran his tongue over the band, and Arthur calmed slightly, leaning more into Francis. He then whispered, "Do you see why I trust you?"

Arthur, giving a warm smile, nodded.

* * *

**Thanks for Reading~! Tell me what you think! :)**


	8. The Truth Found in Each Other

**Author's Note: **Sorry this one took a little while to write, I was having some trouble deciding which direction to take it. Anyways, I hope you guys like it! If you have questions, leave them in a review. Thanks so much to the people who've favorited, followed, and reviewed "Save Me From December". You guys make me want to keep writing!

**Chapter Song: **"Give Me Love" by Ed Sheeran **/ **"Cave In" by Owl City

* * *

Arthur never thought that he had ever been a part of something more embarrassing. Okay, well, he had...just not in public. He and Francis were walking together with Gilbert, Matthew, Antonio, and Lovino. Francis had already broken the news (to which Arthur had finally allowed him to do) about the two's fiasco at the apartment to Gilbert and Antonio. Antonio had suggested doing something together (Lovino and Matthew tagged along to make the Frenchman's new love less uncomfortable) and Arthur had already forgotten where exactly else they were going (they had gone to some gallery already), but that information wasn't the first thing on his mind as of currently. Francis was twisting one of his cartilage studs, and smirking like a wolf that had finally caught a deer he had been tracking for hours. Arthur normally wouldn't have minded it, but - due to the fact that he was wanting the jewelry to stay in his ears, and he was certain that if the other blond continued to play with them, they would fall out - he did.

When he heard Francis whisper a "_je t'aime_" to him, he hissed back, "Look, just because I kissed you doesn't make us the new gay couple on the block, and stop pulling on my earrings or I'm going to break all your fingers off!" Francis, without hesitation removed his fingers from Arthur's lobe, watching him rub the ear, as if he was trying to get Francis's touch off of it. Arthur spoke, "I don't want to loose them; they weren't very cheap," Adding a small smile, he said softly, "Sorry for the outburst."

Understanding, Francis gave Arthur a peck on the lips, to which Arthur couldn't suppress a faint blush. It was cute, until the two caught the rest of the group gawking at them. 'Oh right,' thought Arthur, 'we can't exactly do any PDA without the quartet watching our every move.' He knew that they weren't judging, since they all did the same thing; but, Arthur found his preference resting in lying on the couch with Francis where they were by themselves, rather than being subjected to watchful eyes that invaded their moments. Arthur had wanted to speak this to Francis before they left, but he decided to just keep his mouth closed. He had procrastinated Francis from telling his two best friends for quite a few days (it had been five days since they first kissed), so he didn't want to be selfish...though, who could blame him?

Despite the turmoil in his mind, he continued walking with the rest of the group. It wasn't like he was just going to stop in the middle of the sidewalk or anything. He'd put up with watching a movie, walking around some flea market, or whatever the lot of them had planned to do this evening, but he'd make sure to express his distaste of such things to Francis once the two were freed.

Francis already knew that Arthur wouldn't be one for walking about with his friends and their boyfriends, the Brit preferred being safely tucked away in the apartment rather than out in the open. Not that he didn't care to make-out with him in privacy, although he had hoped that Arthur would become what Lovino was to Antonio, and what Matthew was to Gilbert: a man who didn't care if there were two or two thousand people around them; he could still kiss him and be confident. Perhaps that wish would be granted at a later time, but for now, he could be happy with Arthur being completely smitten for him.

Stretching his arms over his head and letting out a yawn (it was fake, but he thought he sounded pretty genuine) and spoke in a weary voice, "Mon amis, I'm very tired. I think I'll take Arthur and go back home."

Antonio pouted, "You're never tired Francy...did you stay up too late?"

Gilbert grinned, "Nah, he just wants to be alone with Artie."

Francis frowned, unhappy that his cover was quickly foiled, while Arthur was scowling at the nickname that was adopted by the three of them. "Artie" didn't sound so bad coming from Francis's mouth, but accompanied with a smirk and said by Gil or Toni was less to be desired, at least by him.

Gilbert groaned, "Okay, fine, we'll let you two go enjoy the honeymoon phase. But, you're not ditching us the next time!"

Francis latched his arm to Arthur's neck, spun them both around, and called back half-heartedly with a wave of his hand, "Yeah, yeah, whatever." He sighed, giving Arthur an apologetic look, "Those two are great, but they hate it when I bail on them." With a warm smile, he said, "I'd much rather be with you at home too."

Arthur blinked, "Are you a mindreader now?"

Francis beamed, "_Non_, your disdain of the situation was just far too obvious."

Arthur sighed, "No offense to them, but I'm not a big fan of your friends. Lovino and Matthew are nice, but I can't see how you can deal with Gilbert and Antonio all the time."

Francis chuckled, "Some high school friends simply stick with you."

* * *

Walking briskly through the streets, clinging to each other to keep warm, the couple spoke little as they brushed past the citizens of Manhattan to find their apartment on Chelsea St. Once their destination was found, they shed their coats in the lobby, and shared a kiss in the elevator on the way to their floor. Even mere kisses were dangerous; they always seemed to have a dark plan of sexual desire waiting just around the corner. And just as lust intended, it was all a matter of restraint until the two could get behind the closed door to their apartment. Once Francis could manage to unlock the door and slam it closed once the duo were inside, Arthur pressed him to the door and let his lips and teeth scrape across his lover's neck heatedly. He needed the Frenchman, now.

Francis growled as the light pinch of teeth biting down on the skin of his neck could be felt, and he curled his fingers into Arthur's arms. "_Merde_...Arthur. Were you planning on jumping me once we were out of sight?"

His lover couldn't answer immediately, as he was pressing his body up against Francis's, and pushing a knee in between his two legs. His tongue had left a wet trail up his jawline and was currently giving his lips a massage. Arthur may not be the most skilled lover out there, but it was amazing how much lust and want could be packed into such a man. Desire was eradicating every concern, and all Francis wanted was to find their bed.

Arthur had processed the very thought Francis had, and gripped his wrists delicately; pulling him through the living room, and into their bedroom, his lips never leaving his lovers. Pushing Francis onto the bed, Arthur crawled on top and gave a devious lust-filled smirk to the man underneath of him. Adrenaline was pouring into his bloodstream and the sight of his lover looking up at him. Arthur had only topped once in his life. Alfred had wondered what it would be like to give his older, yet smaller, boyfriend the reigns of sex. Arthur had loved it, even if Alfred moaned and bitched afterward that he didn't like not being in control; so, he never topped again. And, all of his clients weren't interested in being topped by a lowly whore. This was an opportunity he wouldn't pass up.

Releasing his grip from Francis's wrists, he instead placed his hands on his hips to hold him steady and gave another heated kiss. Swirling his tongue inside of Francis's mouth, he began undoing the buttons of his shirt, as his fingers were itching to touch Francis's skin. Arthur could already feel himself getting hard, and his cheeks were enflamed with desire.

Francis was enjoying his position underneath of Arthur, though he wasn't used to being the one fucked rather than doing the fucking. Hell, he'd only been bottom a few times, and usually that was because the person on top was riding him. To put it simply, Francis would rather top Arthur in order to see his cute face become red and twisted with passion from his own doing. Although he didn't want to spoil his lover's fun he was having being on top (Francis could tell that Arthur didn't get an opportunity like that often), he'd figure he would treat Arthur right for their first time together. Besides, he was quite interested in finding out how tight or loose his small and eager lover was.

Quickly turning the tables on Arthur, Francis pinned him down to the bed, Arthur blinking up in sheer surprise and confusion perhaps. His disappointment was short-lived, however, as Arthur realized a possibly true and dirty hypothesis: if Francis was three times better than Alfred at kissing, who knows how he would compare to his former fiancé at sex? It was a wanton, immoral, shameless, and frankly whorish thought, but Arthur simply didn't give a damn.

On the other hand, Francis was unbuttoning Arthur's shirt, and pulling off his own at the same time. His thoughts weren't crowded with comparisons and high expectations, it was merely a matter of stripping the two of them down. His eyes then locked with something interesting that rested near the bone of his hip, and he ran tender fingers over it. Arthur blushed when he realized what his lover had found, and Francis gave him a smile, "I like your tattoo."

Arthur's cheeks flushed darker, and Francis could help but ask, "Did you forget about it or something? You look surprised." The tattoo was of a red electric guitar that was adorned with black roses around the edges, with thorns coiling around the instrument. Sexy was the only word Francis could come up with to describe it.

Arthur shook his head, "No...just of all my sleeping partners, you're the first to spot it almost immediately." Seeing him getting all flustered was only making Francis more and more turned on; and he hadn't wasted any time removing their clothes, save their boxers, and started teasingly stroking Arthur's clothed length.

The noise in response was right, but his facial expression was wrong.

Arthur had given him a moan dripping with lust, but to Francis's horror, his eyes were slid shut tightly and he looked pained. He had barely touched him, and the Frenchman could already feel his muscles tense and rejection starting to take form in his features. Why? What had he...?

Oh...

Francis remembered that Arthur was probably used to having his pretty face screwed up with the pain of some man pushing harshly inside of him, unwanted, uninvited. It was sickening, disgusting, horrid, and it was beginning to put a bad taste in his mouth. He would have never let a fact like that stop him before, but he found himself giving into his thoughts; he couldn't do this. Not now. Not whenever Arthur was still uncomfortable with sex in general. He wouldn't allow himself to hurt him, no matter how much lust still remained drilled into him. He'd wait, and allow Arthur to heal more. It probably wouldn't be nice nor fair to Arthur, or so he'd think, but they'd only known each other for two weeks and Arthur was still fragile (as much as he didn't want to believe it).

So, he'd take the risk of being called a bastard, and slipped his fingers past Arthur's waistband. Wrapping his hand around his member, he'd decided to just get Arthur off and go to bed before he could get yelled at. The slow pumping he was doing had earned a quiet hiss from his lover, and started going a bit faster, opening and closing his hand around the swollen cock.

Arthur felt so good, moaning all he could at Francis's hand touching him. But, he wanted more to get it off. He ached to feel Francis's member inside him, stretching him, making him feel better than he had ever felt in his life. He was feeling relief approaching swiftly, and he was growing confused as to why Francis was still using his hand. What did he think he was doing?

"Fran...cis..." he groaned, "God, more...please..."

The stroking continued, and Arthur could feel his hand getting faster, but that wasn't what he wanted. Francis wasn't playing coy to piss him off, was he?

"Please Francis...I want...I want you inside me..."

Dear lord, he was going to cum at any second at this rate. Why wasn't Francis...?

"No, inside...damn Francis...please...!"

Francis hated hearing Arthur beg for something both parties desperately wanted, and he was unable to give it to him. It made him feel like scum. Nevertheless, he just continued to jack Arthur off, until the man was a moaning mess and came hard into Francis's hand.

Opening his eyes back up, Arthur looked up to Francis who was staring off at something else. Damn him! He had the nerve to give him a hand job and he still couldn't even look at him straight?! He was breathing heavily, but his eyebrows slanted down, and he glared at Francis. He watched him as he climbed under the sheets and laid down against his pillow.

Arthur snarled, "You can't even look at me straight whenever you decide that you're done with what you started?"

Francis looked up to him, and Arthur's breath hitched. His blue eyes weren't clouded with lust, but instead they looked hollow and empty, saddened almost. What in the hell..?

"You don't even want to finish what you started? Francis, I want you to fuck me!" Arthur wasn't big on begging, he never had been good at it. It made him feel worthless and at the mercy of someone. But he felt even more worthless when Francis answered his plea.

"No."

What...? No...? But...

"Go to bed, Arthur."

Out of sheer shock, Arthur had followed the cold order. Laying down and facing away from Francis, he clutched his pillow tightly, and felt his teeth sink into his bottom lip. Rejection sunk into his mind. Sure, he had been a little nervous whenever Francis had put himself in dominant position, but he hadn't meant to show it. It wasn't fair that he still retained the fear of being fondled against his will and without his permission, but how could he help himself? The last person who fucked him was rough and made him feel utterly helpless.

He felt outraged, but he wasn't sure if it was with Francis or himself.

He felt disgusted with himself, knowing that he was practically begged for Francis's dick in his mind, taking on the thoughts of a needy whore. Of course Francis wouldn't want a whimpering whore in his bed; let alone a whore at all. The Frenchman's rejection made those cursed ideas settle in his brain again: You're nothing but a whore. Once a whore, always a whore. You're not worthy of having someone to love you. Your body is the only thing your good for. And Francis hadn't even wanted that; he was probably disgusted by him too. Letting him get it off was probably out of politeness, and it was sickening to think about such a thing.

His dreary thoughts soon carried him to nightmares, and Arthur felt like he was going to cry.

* * *

That morning, Arthur didn't wake up to the smell of food, yet Francis was absent from the bed. Looking over to the bedside clock, and groaning at the time (11:30 am), he rolled out of bed and trudged out of the bedroom into the living room. Francis wasn't sitting in the chair, or in the kitchen for that matter.

Heading into the kitchen, he noticed a note on the refrigerator door. Pulling off the magnet and placing it somewhere else, he read the note written in Francis's cursive writing: "_Gone into town to take pictures. Probably will be home at 3 or 4. -Francis_" There weren't any clues of Francis's feelings from last night that could be found in the note, and Arthur was finding his throat becoming swollen and tight once again. Putting the note back on the fridge, he walked into the living room, and looked up at the pictures on the wall.

He caught himself staring at the photos of Francis with different girls. Could his sexuality may have been a factor of last night's actions? Arthur had only assumed that Francis was gay, but he never came out and stated whom he swung for out loud to him. Maybe he wasn't? Only one way to find out.

Pulling open the medicine cabinet in the kitchen, he saw the list of numbers that Francis had told him about. The Frenchman's own number was marked in pencil at the bottom of it, as he had written it down for Arthur specifically. He'd also promised that he would get a phone for Arthur sometime, so that he could call him if needed. The first two numbers belonged to Gilbert and Antonio. Arthur sighed, if anyone could answer his questions, it would be these two. Picking up the apartment phone, he dialed one of the numbers and held it to his ear.

"_Hola_?"

"Antonio, this is Arthur."

"Oh! Hi Arthur! Did you want to talk to Lovi? I'll go get him for-"

"No. I wanted to talk to you actually."

"Oh...okay. Well, is anything wrong? Is this about Francis?"

"Y-Yeah, um...this is kind of a weird question, but...is Francis gay?"

"_Si_, he's gay..." Well, that was easy. "...But he wasn't always." Huh?

"Wait, he was straight before?"

"Well...no...he was bisexual."

"Okay..."

Antonio took this as a cue to explain more, "His father was never proud of it, and his mother had died when he was young...so he was only left with a disappointed father to turn to when he realized that he liked both men and women. He had many relationships in high school and college, most of them girls."

"Was it because his father didn't approve of him being with males?"

"Actually...his father had abandoned him once Francis was a sophomore in high school, so he wasn't around to keep that in his head. Francis, however, had felt that his father leaving was his fault, so he tried to keep himself tied to women."

Arthur was beyond surprised, Francis had suffered a bad childhood? He hadn't given any indication of this, nor had he told him this. He couldn't help but ask, "Was he in a relationship with Charlotte?"

"Charlotte? You mean his co-worker? No, Charlotte's like a sister to him. Once he was left on his own, Charlotte's family allowed him to live at their house and helped him pay for college and the likes."

"Oh..."

"But, he spent a long time with this French-speaking African girl, Sabine. He seemed happy, but he broke it off after a while whenever he said that he was starting to get bored with her..."

"What about that blonde girl? The one in the pictures?"

"...she was Francis's last girlfriend. I believe they dated four years ago."

Arthur caught Antonio's voice getting lower and softer. If Arthur could have seen the other man's face, he could tell that he was frowning. "So, what happened?"

"Joan was a very lighthearted but determined person. If you challenged her, she'd figure out a way to accomplish any task. _Dios_, she was amazing.

"However, Francis was starting to come into terms with the fact that he wasn't attracted to girls, and that he was only attracted to men. Francis was growing more distant from her, and even blew off a date that she and him had arranged. He didn't want to hurt her, and he figured that the only way he could do that was to be honest about his sexuality. She'd understand, even if she still loved him.

"So, he had decided to head out to the place where she had been stood up, and along the way, he saw a bunch of police cars at one of the intersections, blocking off a car accident that had occurred. Joan had been speeding out of anger, and she'd tried to run the red light, but ended up smashing into another car. The officers claimed she was killed on impact, and Francis was devastated. He felt that it was his fault this all happened, and full of heartache that he couldn't tell Joan that he was gay before she died."

Oh god...Arthur felt his palm clutching the phone tighter, and his tongue swirled in his mouth uneasily, a technique he used whenever he tried to suppress his emotions. Francis had gone through all this, and was still appeared so happy? Guilt flooded over Arthur. He had forced his problems onto Francis, when the man he was seeking comfort from had gone through Hell as well. His hand on the phone trembled, and Arthur whispered an "oh my god" before cupping his other hand over his eyes.

"I know, it's such a sad story. But, trust me Arthur. You shouldn't have to worry about Francis not sleeping with you or anything like that..." He perked up, pressing his ear to the phone more, "...he cares for you. You mean a lot to him, and I know he won't pass up the opportunity..."

With that, Arthur hung up the phone without saying goodbye and leaned against the kitchen wall. What was the point? Where was the point in staying here? Arthur had warned Francis many times that he didn't want to be a burden, and Antonio had told him that he had suffered as badly (to his opinion, it was worse) as he did, and he'd refused to sleep with him. And on top of all that, he could still find the memory of Alfred sitting in his mind every single day. If he had truly been fair to Francis, then his former fiancé would have been erased from his mind and there would only be Francis left.

He knew that staying here was a bad idea. He shouldn't have allowed his heart to be tugged on by Francis so easily. But, Francis hadn't betrayed him...he just didn't want him. And that was okay...he supposed. Better to not be wanted that to be cheated on, right? Looking out the window at the busy city morning, he gave a melancholy sigh.

Would it be so hard to abandon this place and go back to his life before Francis?

* * *

**Thanks for Reading~! Tell me what you think! :)**


	9. The Hell Awaiting for Him

**Author's Note: **Arg. Why do my longest chapters seem to be the bad ones? I would say enjoy...but I'm certain some hearts are gonna be shattered after this one. If you have questions, leave em in a review. Thanks again to all you guys who review, favorite, and follow my story. You make me _sehr froh_. :)

**Chapter Songs: **"Bruises & Bitemarks" by Good With Grenades **/** "Torn" by Natalie Imbruglia **/ **"Try" by P!nk

* * *

Arthur was surprised at how cold he was whenever he stepped outside the apartment building. Was it the chill in his heart, or simply because Francis wasn't walking beside him and holding him close to keep warm? Looking around at the streets, he concluded that it would probably take a good forty-five to fifty minute walk to his destination.

He had only been gone for about two weeks, so he was hoping that his consequences wouldn't be as severe as they could be. His brother would probably be outraged whenever he came home, or perhaps his lack of ability to pay his rent would have left him on the streets. Or, all his binge drinking could have caught up with him and he could have died. Smiling cruelly, he thought in dread what exactly what he would be walking into. No doubt that Koehler would be working him like an animal to pay up all the money he had lost. No doubt a punishment (most likely a two-week punishment) awaited that'd kill him. Death wasn't so bad, even if it was his horrid boss being the murderer; he'd only grimace that it probably wouldn't be an easy way out. Conjuring up hundreds of ideas of how Koehler could kill him, he felt his smile easing off his face and his teeth sinking into his bottom lip.

Arthur wasn't facing this easily, as much as he wanted to be strong and do so. He was terrified, but it would be better this way. He never deserved someone so bright and happy as Francis, and he was cruel to enter Francis's life. There was only one place he belonged. And his eyes caught ahold of said place.

The old warehouse, the Underbog. He walked up to the door, and his fingers curled around the pull handle. However, he couldn't will himself the strength to pull it open and step inside. Releasing the handle, he took a couple steps back and took in a breath.

What was he doing? His mind ran at a million miles per hour. There was no way he could go back to this miserable life! He was being rash and stupid. He just needed to talk to Francis. Yes, if they talked...they could work this out. Leaving outright was just foolish, Francis hadn't even explained his case.

Sighing, he turned around and started walking out of the alleyway. He wondered what he should say. Even if he did mess up the words, Francis was very-.

He felt a pair of hands grab his torso, and another pair of hands seized his face. One hand shielded his eyes while the other covered his mouth. He screamed and tried to squirm, but everything was muffled by the strong hands. Kidnapping? Abduction? No, he knew better. He had made the mistake of stepping too close to this place. Now he would pay the price.

He was thrown to the floor of the warehouse, finally free to see whom had pulled him inside. The whores surrounded around him. Kiku was to his very left, his eyes wide and filled with concern and shock. It was as if he was trying to telepathically tell Arthur: "why did you come back?!".

Emil and Lukas looked about the same way, to Arthur's right. Maybe Lukas had learned to be a bit more sympathetic? Next to Kiku was Vash, and to his shock...he recognized the new face next to the blonde: that violin player he snapped rudely at about two weeks ago. He was a whore now? Vash and the violin player both held a cruel gaze at him, and Arthur concluded that these two were the ones who pulled him inside the building.

"You know I hate it whenever I hear someone slam the door!"

Arthur stiffened, that was the voice of his boss.

"Vash, Roderich, what's going on here?! I told the lot of you to-" Koehler's words cut off when he made his way to the circle, and his blue eyes caught sight of Arthur's pitiful form on his floor. His irritated frown suddenly grew into a cold smile. He looked over to Vash and Roderich and grinned, "Did you two find my long lost toy for me?"

Vash nodded, making sure he didn't look directly at Koehler, "Yes, master." He shared a kiss with Roderich whenever Koehler looked away from them.

Koehler looked back towards Arthur, "Arthur Kirkland...you ran away from me." Coming closer, he knelt down in front of him, and gazed at him. Koehler had missed being able to touch his small and sensitive whore, and none of the others had proven to be good replacements. Emil and Kiku both came close, but not close enough. Suddenly, Koehler's eyes narrowed and he cupped Arthur's chin with his palm, tilting his face up to look at him. Out of habit, Arthur closed his eyes to avoid looking at his master. He felt his spine freeze whenever he felt a thumb go over his lips. They were bruised, as Francis and himself weren't very considerate towards each other's lips last night, and he knew that Koehler had spotted that.

"Not only have you abandoned your job...you thought you'd give your body over to someone else?" his boss hissed the words.

Dear god, he hated that tone of voice. It meant punishment, not that he hadn't expected to not get one if he were to walking in willingly. But even if he was dragged inside, it didn't change Koehler's motive. Arthur had shirked his job (which was supposed to be permanent until Koehler himself killed you or let you go, like with Heracles) for two weeks, and only now he came back. He longed for the ability to escape this place, to run back to the apartment or wherever Francis was, and see him again. This whole endeavor was a mistake, and now he was certain that Koehler wouldn't let him go a second time.

The boss looked up to the rest of the whores, and said, "You know the drill. Get to it." When the crowd left for their respective rooms, Koehler's attention was back on his favorite whore. He frowned, "First you abandon me, and then Toris decides that he's in love and wanted to go live happily ever after. Why do all my favorites seem to leave me for someone else?"

Arthur whispered gravely, "Where's Toris...?" From his tone, it seemed like Koehler had killed Toris for trying to leave. He may had wanted to run away to be with Feliks; then again, Arthur would probably have done the same thing.

Koehler growled, "Do you think if I knew where he was I'd be sitting here wondering that? Don't be such a fucking idiot Kirkland." His voice softened a little, "Nevermind that, he's not here and you are..." Leaning in closer, he snarled, "Do you understand how much money you've lost me on your little vacation?" He chuckled, "I know what you're thinking...you believe that I'm going to force you to take three rounds a night to make it all up, but...I'm not going to."

What?

Placing one of his rough hands on Arthur's cheeks, he smirked, "I've dearly missed my favorite plaything. I don't want anyone else to put their hands on you, for now. You're _mine_." Arthur had a very sickening feeling about what Koehler wanted to do to him. He'd been gone for two weeks, and no doubt that Koehler was ready to push all of his frustrations onto and into Arthur's body. Without any warning, Koehler pulled Arthur up to his feet, and seized his arm, dragging him towards the room that Koehler had for himself. Koehler rarely used the room, but he used it whenever he wanted to toy with Arthur's body. His boss had always called it "toying", but it was more like torture. Arthur never knew what to expect anymore, as he'd learn some new thing to do to his body, or he'd want to experiment something and...Arthur was apparently the perfect rat to test it out with.

Koehler gave a harsh shove against Arthur's back, and knocked him to the bedside. Arthur had discovered, with all the sessions his boss had forced him into, that he could appear only somewhat threatening whenever he spoke to one about what he was going to do to them. However, once you were inside the bedroom, strapped to the bed, Koehler became a different type of wicked. He was merciless with his toys of torture, he loved making his whores scream, and he really loved it when his whores would beg and plead for mercy. It made him feel powerful.

Koehler smirked, "You know what position you need to be in. Get to it."

Arthur climbed onto the bed without any hesitation, and leaned against the wood of the bed frame, eyes going downcast and sucking in a few quick breaths. Koehler crawled up to him, his shirt shed and abandoned on the floor. Cupping Arthur's chin, he smirked, "I have a proposition for you, my Arthur." When the whore didn't reply, Koehler continued speaking, "I will take you off of the market..." Off the market? But even if Koehler had his own rounds with him, he still expected Arthur to bring in the money that was expected of a whore to make. "...and in exchange, you will give your body only to me."

Arthur's eyes widened off at the offer. The benefit of the deal is that Arthur would no longer suffer from surprise pain of a new client. He'd no longer have to deal with clients like Sadik. He'd know what was coming. The downside, was that Koehler was no easy partner. He was cruel and painful and a devil in flesh. Could he really give himself to his boss in exchange for no more new clients? What if there were more clients like that man who paid him the extra cash that one time? What if they were kind and easy?

Koehler sensed the turmoil and how he was unable to come to a decision. He spoke, "No need to answer now...I'll ask you again later on." He ripped open the buttons on Arthur's shirt, and threw it off the bed. He proceeded to strip the rest of Arthur's clothes, leaving him naked and exposed. Instead of immediately touching his whore, Koehler got up from the bed and went over to closet, pulling out several of his toys and devices and whatever the hell his boss wanted to use on him. He looked over and noticed that a pole was situated by the bed. It had been there ever since he became a whore here, but as far as he knew, it had never been used. Koehler closed the closet door and caught Arthur looking at the pole. He chuckled, "Eager to get on it and give your master a show?" Arthur didn't say one word, but instead looked back down at the bed.

His master crawled back up to him and latched onto one of his wrists, pulling it up to the top of the headboard. He had a long piece of rope, several actually, and Arthur knew that they would be what would cuff him to Koehler's bed. The rope felt rough and the loose strands pricked his skin uncomfortably; he'd have rope burns after this was all over. He felt his body being raised, and his legs being spread open. Koehler tied off his ankles to the end of the bed, stretching his whole body out beyond desire. Koehler quickly removed the rest of his clothes, and climbed on top of his restrained whore.

"So lovely, how should I have my way with you first?" Arthur gulped, and Koehler eyes suddenly flashed with insight. He leaned over and grasped onto a bandana. He smirked, "They say that if you remove one of your senses, then your other four senses become more efficient." Pulling the blindfold over Arthur's eyes and tying it in the back, Arthur felt even more helpless that he couldn't even see what Koehler was going to do to him. Feeling his master adjust on top of him, he took in a breath. "I'd like to test this theory on you."

He squinted his eyes shut whenever he felt a hand on his cock and hissed. Those rough hands touching his member made his insides knot up and he dug his fingernails into headboard. The grip on his dick tightened up and Koehler was squeezing him beyond comfort, as if he was trying to suffocate the organ. Arthur cried out in pain, trying to squirm to get away from the man, though with his wrists and ankles bound, it was impossible. Eventually Koehler grew bored of pulling and playing with Arthur's dick, and decided to engorge himself in another way. Crawling up towards the whore's face, he stuck a couple fingers into Arthur's mouth, silently telling him to open his mouth up more.

'_Fuck_', Arthur thought, '_He really isn't going to hold back_.'

He fought his gag-reflex whenever he felt his master's cock slide past his lips and rest in his mouth. He knew that if he waited any longer to start giving the member treatment, his throat would get pounded harshly. He ran his tongue along the underside vein of the cock, starting to suck on the growing erection. Koehler slapped his cheek harshly whenever he accidentally put the pressure of his teeth on it, and Arthur resumed stroking the shaft with his tongue, moving along the slit and tasting the disgusting pre-cum that was starting to bead at the tip. From there, Koehler starting thrusting in and out of his mouth, slamming at and bruising the back of Arthur's throat. He was whimpering now, whining. Arthur longed for it to be over, and exhaled out of relief whenever Koehler removed his dick from his mouth. Tears were forming at the corners of his eyes, and he cursed his weakness. He couldn't be rendered this weak so early.

Feeling the rough hands of his master trail down to his hips, he gritted his teeth when he felt Koehler grip at the skin harshly, and he knew that there would be dark bruises there later on. His breath hitched when he felt the tip of his boss's cock at the end of him, and his mouth released a silent cry whenever he pushed in. He'd be bleeding by the time this was all over.

* * *

Francis had come back to the apartment early once again. He hadn't expected the day to be so easy, but he was lucky enough to catch some snow falling from the sky. Of course it didn't last very long, but he could get enough good shots to be proud of his shots for the day. Charlotte had been happy, though she had asked about where his "model" was. Francis had given a sad smile and told his sister figure that he was at home, probably resenting and hating him.

On the way back to the apartment, he realized that he really needed to sit down and have a serious talk with Arthur. He was probably confused and angry, as he had left before speaking to him, and his note hadn't been very polite. But, he was worried about what tone he should have used in the text, so he simply gave no emotion. It was rude, but necessary.

Heading up the elevator, he thought over what he would say to his aching lover. He'd have to apologize, and try to convince him that he wasn't trying to humiliate him or push him away. He was only concerned about what he was going through.

Unlocking the door, he stepped inside and looked around. No sign of Arthur. He headed into the bedroom, hoping to see him sleeping soundly, but his face drained in color whenever he found that the bed was empty. Heading back into the living to look for clues, he found nothing and moved on to the kitchen. He noticed that the medicine cabinet was open, though nothing looked tampered with. He looked down at the number list, but wasn't positive if that's why the cabinet was open. He looked over to the fridge, and saw that his own note was absent, but there was another to replace it.

His eyes widened in horror as he read it to himself: _"I'm sorry for shoving my pain onto you, as I know you went through your own. Don't worry about me, I'm not dead and I don't plan on committing suicide, I'm simply going back to my life before you, because you deserve someone better than me. Take care of yourself and have a nice life, you deserve it. - Arthur"_

Crumpling the note in his hand, he felt his hand starting to shake and he looked over to the numbers in the medicine cabinet. He had talked to either Antonio or Gilbert, and they must have told him something.

Dialing feverishly, he put both of them on the line for three-way calling. "Antonio, Gilbert, did one of you speak to Arthur? I need to know."

Gilbert answered first, "No, why? What's wrong?"

Antonio then said, "I did."

Francis demanded, "What did you say to him?"

Antonio thought for a second and spoke, "He asked me about your sexuality, and I told him about what went on in the past." Francis nearly growled, not wanting the memories to resurface. "He seemed distressed, and he hung up unexpectedly whenever I said that he wouldn't have to worry about you sleeping with him...why?"

Francis ran his fingers through his hair, "Shit..."

Antonio protested, "Was that wrong? What did I do?"

Francis sighed, "Last night..." He didn't sleep with him.

Gilbert had caught up with Francis's thoughts, "What in the hell were you thinking Francis?"

"He looked pained whenever I barely touched him. I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if I hurt him."

"So...you blew him off."

"Basically."

"...damn. Where is he now?" Francis heard a line click off, and he assumed that Antonio had hung up.

"He said that he was going back to his life before me. Which can only mean..."

"The Underbog."

Francis dug his fingernails into his palm, pissed off at himself for driving Arthur to such an action. "I don't even know how to find him..."

Gilbert sighed, "I know where it is. I'll take you there, but...Francis..."

"_Oui?_"

"...just be prepared for the worst. If Koehler's gotten his hands on Arthur..."

"Shut up, Gil."

"Right, sorry. I'll meet you outside your apartment building."

Hanging up the phone, Francis pulled on his coat and practically ran out the door to the stairs. The elevator would take too long. Gripping the railing, he headed down the flights of steps as quickly as he could. He couldn't let Arthur possibly go through that again, he just hoped that he wouldn't be too late.

* * *

Arthur's throat felt hoarse after Koehler pulled out of him. His energy was spent screaming, and he felt the tears flowing his cheeks more freely now. He felt blood and semen oozing out of him, and his boss was lying on top of him, his spent cock pressing into his stomach. Koehler was smiling into his chest, happy that he could have been entertained with the tightness of Arthur's body and his beautiful screaming voice together. Pure ecstasy.

Koehler was a little tired, but he longed for more entertainment of his whore. He hadn't really used many of the lovely toys he had gotten out yet anyway. Willing to move himself up to untie the bonds that held Arthur to the bed, he almost chuckled whenever the Brit groaned at hitting the bed. Letting the smaller man free of the ankle bonds, he looked over at the pole near the bed. He had gotten it put in his room for future purposes, such as making his whore give him a dance on it. However, since Arthur was obviously drained, he wouldn't waste his time on trying to force him to doing such a thing. He'd wait until tomorrow or the next day for that. He had a better idea.

Koehler managed to pull up Arthur off the bed with a couple tugs and some threats, and the whore walked shakily to where he was being guided to. Koehler hadn't bothered removing the blindfold. This sick experiment was proving very fun to watch.

Arthur had no idea what his boss was going to make him do next, but he felt a hand touch cold metal, and his eyes widened behind the blindfold. The pole? Koehler pulled on his shoulder and whispered in his ear, "Climb that pole as high as you can go." Not even bothering to nod, Arthur got a steady grip on the pole, and started climbing up it. Koehler looked, his eyes full of hunger. Damn, that pole pressing into his weak spots was just too damn hot. Arthur gripped onto the pole and didn't move, indicating that he couldn't find the strength to climb up higher. The Dane quickly adjusted his body so that his backside was pressed to the pole, and his front was exposed to him. Tying his wrists and ankles to the pole with the rope once again, he made sure that there would be no chance in Arthur falling off or moving very much. Arthur sunk his fingers into the rope just in case.

Koehler went over and grabbed a couple objects: a whip and a knife. The whip he tossed onto the bed, and he went over to the bedside table near the pole to lay the knife down on. He knew he had a candle in this drawer, happy of thinking to store it in here. He took out a lighter and a small candle and lit the candle once it was set out on the table. Making sure it was burning sufficiently, he let the knife rest just above the flame, to heat up the metal.

Arthur knew to be very afraid. He was tied to a pole and he could smell something burning. He wished that he could have his sight back, so that he could see what he would be experiencing in the next little while. Heat was definitely going to be pressed against him, and he was not looking forward to it.

Suddenly, there was a harsh smack against his skin, and he screeched in surprise. A whip. That's what Koehler was going to use on him first.

His master was merciless with the tool. He smacked every visible surface of Arthur's skin, turning the pale skin to a bright red, and making Arthur scream out and arch his back in pain, his head pushing into the pole and his eyes rolling back into his head. He smacked in between his thighs, he smacked his cheeks, and even opened a couple spots that were freely bleeding by now. He'd be hurting for days, Arthur knew it. He'd never been experienced to this kind of pain before from his master, and he longed to simply be free or to just die.

Eventually, the whip was retreated, and Koehler picked up the knife, happy that the metal radiated heat. "You knew I was never going to give you a choice about being my personal toy, right?"

Of course he knew. His master took what he wanted, and it seemed that Arthur was all that he wanted.

Koehler smirked, not that Arthur could see, "And since you're mine, I figured that I would permanently mark you as mine." Wrapping his arm around Arthur's waist, he adjusted the knife to lay at his stomach, the heat already burning his sensitive whore and he released a blood curling scream. He shushed the pitiful man, and pressed the heated tip into Arthur's skin, spelling out the word that he wanted: "Koehler".

A fucking heated knife?! How in the hell could his boss find worse ways to torture him into submission? In his mind, he could spell out what Koehler wrote and felt tears streaming down his cheeks again. _Oh god_, he really was going to die here. He started wailing, protesting, stuttering through the tears.

In time, he felt rough hands remove his bonds, first at his ankles and next at his wrists. Unable to hold onto the pole, he simply let go and fell to the floor, landing on his front, which only added to the ebbing pain of the stinging letters. Koehler pulled him up to his feet, and Arthur was finding it a damn miracle that he could still walk somewhat correctly. He led the Brit back to the bed, and let him lie down on it. No tricks, no more punishments. Koehler felt that Arthur would need a break from all that he had just been through, and so he lied down next to him and even removed the blindfold, revealing Arthur's reddening eyes.

He began whispering words to try and soothe his nearly broken toy (though Arthur was finding the words disgusting) and began running his tongue over his body, sucking and biting where he felt that marks should be left. Arthur could only lie there and simply accept it. He repeated his thoughts of regret in his mind, if only he hadn't left the apartment. If only he hadn't been so rash. If only he hadn't yelled at Francis last night. Hell, if only he hadn't written that fucking note. _"Don't worry"_ he had said. _"You deserve better than me"_ he had said. Well, he did, but he wished that he didn't write it down in the note. He could only drift off and hope that the pain would disappear soon.

* * *

Francis and Gilbert were racing through the streets, Gilbert leading the way to the place Arthur was presumably at. Francis hoped that their suspicions were correct, but he was also terrified that his precious Arthur was hurt and broken. He had known that Gilbert had been associated with the Underbog in the past, but he had never asked specifically about how he was associated.

He figured that now would be a good time to ask, as Gilbert had given him a few more blocks notice.

"Gil, hold up..."

Gilbert slowed down and waited for Francis to catch up to him. Slightly panting, Francis asked, "How exactly were you connected to the Underbog?"

Gilbert's eyes widened up, but he sighed and closed them. "The owner was a close friend of mine in college, along with you and Antonio. He had a harsh nature to him, not really big on the people we hung out with, but he liked me. We were friends with some kid named...Jones, or something. Al or Alfie...?"

Francis's eyes widened, "Alfred?"

Gilbert nodded, "Yeah, that's him..." Then when he realized who exactly Alfred was, he let out an "oh...". He sighed, "Well, anyway, Koehler was interested in the business, and asked the two of us if we'd help him get one started. Alfred immediately said no, that he wouldn't be involved in something so disgusting, and he walked out on Koehler and me. I didn't say yes to it either, but I came back and visited him at the Underbog, to see how his business was doing. Turns out he had done pretty well on his own. I only expected to stay once, but Koehler persuaded me to make use of it, and soon, I did."

Gilbert growled, "I'm sure as hell not proud of it...and I considered leaving for a while, but once Matthew came into my life, I knew I had to leave Koehler and never go back."

Francis frowned sadly, "I'm sorry to make you face your past..."

Gilbert shrugged, "Hey, it's to rescue Arthur...I'd do the same thing for Mattie."

Francis nodded, and followed Gilbert into an alleyway that twisted and turned a couple times, seeing the large green warehouse door. The paint was chipped and the handles were rusted, but Gilbert pulled them open without hesitation.

Francis stepped inside and looked around. There was a large clear area, though he thought he could see old stains on the floor, and there were doors lined up in the back with numbers on them.

Gilbert noticed two small males leaning against the wall and strode up to them, Francis following behind. One had black hair and dark brown eyes, and the other had very pale blonde hair, almost silvery, and bright violet-hued eyes. Both of them looked terrified, especially the black-haired one.

Francis spoke up, "We're looking for Arthur, is he here?"

The blonde-haired one nodded, "He's in that room over there..." He pointed a trembling finger towards the unmarked door.

Gilbert's eyes widened, "Don't tell me that Koehler...!"

The black-haired man quivered, "The screams only stopped recently..."

Francis looked horrified, and Gilbert snarled and made his way over to the door. Gilbert turned to his friend and hissed, "Remember what I said: be prepared for the worst."

Kicking in the door, Gilbert and Francis's mouths dropped open at the sight that awaited them. Arthur was sprawled out on the bed, his body red and bleeding at some spots, and he looked more like a lifeless doll than a human being. There was a man lying on top of him, with spiked hair and an arrogant smile, whispering something to Francis's beloved. The two of them noticed the ropes around the pole, and the whip, the knife, and the blood present around the room, and concluded that they were too late.

The man lying on Arthur looked up and quirked an eyebrow, "Gil...?"

Gilbert clenched his fists, and the man seemed to smile, "You've come back? Got tired of that runt you fell in love with?"

At once, the albino was on the other side of the room, slamming the man into the wall and shouted that he was a "motherfucking bastard". Francis seemed to be locked in his spot, utterly horrified at what had happened. It took Gilbert looking back at Arthur, and his mouth dropping open again, "_Oh mein gott_..."

Francis immediately rushed to the bedside and saw what the bastard had done to Arthur. The word "Koehler" was practically burned into his skin, and he could see more of the damage. _Merde_, if only he had been sooner...

Gilbert was tying up Koehler, and kicking him harshly in the stomach. Among the curses and insults, he called back to Francis, "Hurry up and get him dressed again so we can get out of here!"

Francis nodded, and scooped up Arthur into his arms. He was still breathing okay, but he was more than likely exhausted and in a lot of pain. _Mon dieu_, if Arthur turned out okay, he swore he'd give him anything he wanted. He'd never leave his side. When Francis pulled on his shirt, Arthur's arms managed to lift and did what Francis was trying to accomplish, though the Frenchman wondered if Arthur even knew it was him. He dressed him again, and tried to shake the Brit gently into waking up. He didn't respond, and Francis sighed. He was worse than he thought. Leaning in, he gave Arthur an apologetic kiss, hoping that he would know what he meant. Arthur seemed to respond that time, and he opened his green eyes back up, widening suddenly at the sight of Francis.

"...Oh god...Francis..." he buried his face in Francis's shoulder, happy that the Frenchman had came to find him.

Gilbert called, "Is he alright?"

Francis nodded, "I'll carry him, we can go."

Gilbert turned back towards Koehler, hissing his words like a snake, "You don't even deserve Hell, Matthias. If you _ever_ come close to Arthur again..."

Koehler grinned, "He's marked as mine, Gilbert...he'll come back to his master eventually..."

Before Gilbert could reply, Francis stood up with Arthur on his back, snarling, "You're demented." Looking to Gil, he said, "Just leave him tied. I want to get Arthur back home before he collapses on me again."

The Prussian nodded and followed Francis out the door and into the alleyway.

Francis sighed, "It's a forty-five minute walk back..." He felt Arthur grasp onto his shirt a little tighter than before.

Gilbert grinned, "Hey, we've done it once before, right?" However, as they walked out, they saw a familiar red Ferrari sitting at the corner. Gilbert nearly laughed, "Oh wow. Antonio, you've really outdone yourself."

Francis carried Arthur over to the car, and Gilbert smirked at the Spaniard behind the wheel. Lovino could be seen in the passenger seat, and Matthew was sitting in the back. Antonio pouted, "The two of you went on a rescue mission without me? How rude."

Gilbert sighed, but held a smile, "I knew Mattie would tell on me. Thanks for driving all the way out here. How'd you find us?"

Antonio grinned, "Lovi told me that I could track your phone on my own, so we knew where you were going."

Francis interrupted, "Anyway we could postpone this until we get in the car?"

The other two agreed, and Matthew opened the door for them, Gilbert and Francis carrying Arthur until he was safely inside the car, and the other two slipped inside, Arthur being readjusted to sit on Francis's lap and lean against Matthew and him for support. He was awake, but he wasn't speaking due to how much pain he was in and how tired he was.

Lovino gaped at Arthur's pitiful state, "_Dio mio_..."

Matthew whispered, "Will he be alright? Is he hurt really badly?"

Gilbert frowned, "It was worse when you could see his whole body..."

Francis didn't say anything, he just held Arthur close, stroking his back to reassure him and make him feel safe.

Antonio didn't even reply, but drove off quickly, understanding the dire need to get the two of them back home.

* * *

**Thanks for Reading. Tell me what you think! **


	10. Our Peace Shall be Restored

**Author's Note: **This one's another filler, and it's a tiny chapter. But, next chapter shall be longer and much more fun. Like I've said before, if you have questions, feel free to ask in a review. Thanks to everyone who reviews, follows, and favorites this story. The lot of you make me all happy. :) And I'mDoneDreaming77, please don't kill me for this...

**Chapter Song: **"Perfect" by P!nk (the clean version's better in my opinion)

* * *

Gilbert uneasily hung up the keys on the hook by the door, keeping in mind that Francis wanted him and the others (Toni, Lovi, and Matt were waiting outside the apartment) for them to leave. The Frenchman knew that they were only concerned for Arthur's safety, but he was certain that Arthur would start speaking again once the lot of them were gone. He hadn't said a word since the rescue, not that he didn't understand why, but it was very unnerving.

The albino said in a low, but oddly sincere, voice, "If there's any problems, you can call us and we'll be there, okay?"

Francis nodded, "_Oui_. I appreciate your concern." His response was nice enough, but he was struggling to keep his composure and not immediately shove the man out of his house so that he could have some alone time with the Brit that was now being held in his arms. Arthur was resting right now, but he had the appearance of something like a ragged corpse rather than a defiled man. The only thing that showed that he was alive was the rise and fall of his chest.

Eventually, Gilbert took the hint and headed out of the apartment, closing the door with a firm _click_. Francis listened as four pairs of feet could be heard heading down the hallway, and turned his attention back to Arthur once he heard the _ding _of the elevator. Arthur had opened his eyes back up by now, and if the situation wasn't so dire, he would have joked that Arthur had been resting his eyes on purpose until Gilbert left. He held his tongue instead, and Arthur whispered hoarsely, "I thought he'd never leave…"

"Neither did I," Francis replied. "But now it's just the two of us."

Arthur gave a half-hearted smile, "If I weren't aching so much, I would be happier to hear something like that." He thought back to whenever a simple sentence like that meant that they could relax on the couch and simply kiss and hold each other for hours on end. Now that this happened, could they go back to how it was?

Francis frowned, "It's alright now. You're safe here. I'll fix you up…" he thought for a minute and asked, "So, what exactly should I do?"

Arthur sighed, "You dolt. You have no idea of simple first aid?"

Francis protested, "This is nowhere near first aid, Arthur! You were raped, you're bleeding, and you have bad burns carved into you!"

"Please don't mention it all. I'm trying to forget," there was a look of pain in his eyes.

"_Je suis dèsolè_."

"It's okay…"

"So, what should I do?" he tried asking again.

"Run me a cold bath. Then take the icemaker and start dumping ice into the bathtub," Arthur explained calmly. Deciding against asking "why", Francis decided to trust his love and carried him to their bathroom. Setting him on the tile floor, he reached over and turned the knob to cold and let the water fill up the tub.

While it was running, Francis knelt down in front of Arthur and started removing his clothes. Arthur was watching him intently, as if he was worried that the same thing would happen again if he didn't look away. Francis rest one of his hands in Arthur's hair, trying to comfort him, and was happy whenever Arthur leaned into the touch like a cat that was being scratched on the cheek. Arthur needed him, and Francis wasn't going to leave him again.

Once the water level was high enough in the tub, Francis turned the knob so the water would stop. He pulled Arthur's body into his arms, and lowered him into the cold water, though he flinched and nearly hissed at the temperature. However, once he was situated, he seemed to relax; so, Francis took this as a cue to go get the ice maker. He wasn't exactly an expert on the human body (merely an expert of certain parts of it) so he didn't understand why ice would help him. If anything, he would think that the ice would just be uncomfortable to sit in.

But either way, he was obedient and brought the Brit what he asked for. Francis couldn't help but smile whenever he noticed Arthur trying to stay awake in the bathtub; he looked like a child that was very tired at a party who was drifting in and out of sleep. Arthur caught him smiling and said, "Stop looking so cheeky and pour the ice in the damn tub." Nodding, Francis dumped the ice in the tub, and came back into the bathroom once he ran the bin back to the kitchen. He took a seat next to the bathtub, and worked his arm under Arthur's head to cushion it off the side of the tub.

"So, what is the ice supposed to do?"

"It numbs your muscles. Athletes sometimes bathe in ice water if they strain their muscles during practice or a game."

Francis frowned slightly, "…It's my fault you're like this."

Arthur raised one of eyebrows, "Your fault? I was the one who ran away."

"But I pushed you into it."

"No you didn't. I was being stupid and desperate and let what happened the night before affect me into trying to leave."

"I hurt you, Arthur. I shouldn't have denied you what you wanted."

The Brit sighed and spoke, "I'm not upset anymore, but…why didn't you? I asked for it. Francis, I _wanted _it."

Francis replied, "But, whenever I touched you, you looked afraid…as if I was going to defile you and abuse you. I was scared that I'd hurt you in the long run."

"It was because my previous sleeping partners were rough, it was my natural reaction."

Natural reaction? It was terrifying to think that such a thing could develop in less than three months. Instead of questioning it, he spoke, "Okay…"

Arthur smiled, "I won't break, especially not with you."

Francis frowned, "After all this, I don't know about that anymore. I don't want to push it."

"You're such a damn softie. Francis, I'll heal. I'll be okay." He gave a grin and said, "You're here with me, I know I'll be fine."

Francis leaned in and kissed him, "I'm sorry…"

He spoke softly, "I'm sorry too…" he then shivered once Francis's arms wrapped around him and he said, "I'm getting a little cold…"

Francis laughed, "Should I get you out of that cold tub?"

Arthur shook his head, "I'd rather have a hot bath."

"Water waster."

"Oh shut up." He added, "I'd let you get in with me."

"Such a tempting idea…"

"Francis, please? Can you wash me off?"

"_Oui, amour_. As you wish," the Frenchman stood up and started pulling off his clothes and abandoned them on the bathroom floor, not bothering to fold them up. Arthur blushed, realizing that this was the first time he had seen his love completely naked. It'd be lewd to describe him at such a moment, so he tried to abandon all thoughts relating to such a thing. He allowed Francis to get in, and he sat down in front of him. While he was sore, he wasn't helpless enough to not be able to accomplish such a simple task like washing himself off, but it would be more comforting and easier if Francis did it for him.

Picking up a bottle of shampoo, he poured a gracious amount into his palms and worked his fingers into Arthur's choppy hair. Humming to the relaxing feel, Arthur closed his eyes and started to enjoy Francis's tender fingers working at his scalp. Francis couldn't help but notice how much his British boyfriend seemed to be enjoying it a little too much, and the rolling of his hips didn't go unnoticed.

"Arthur, you're injured and you can still get all turned on?"

"Can't help it…"

"You do realize I'm not going to just have sex with you in a bathtub."

"A man can't hope?"

"Is your sexual drive normally this high, or am I just an orgasm in flesh to you?"

"The second one…" Both of them blushed at the comment. At least he was being honest.

Francis rinsed the shampoo out of Arthur's hair, and worked on getting some body gel out of the respective bottle, and let it ooze out onto a washcloth. He immediately went to Arthur's chest first. Clotted blood tracks and red spots were still in plain sight, and he hoped to get rid of them. He knew that the burned word would have to heal with time, but blood and marks could be soothed in a short period of time. Running the rag over his torso delicately, his body looked like a canvas that one had just sprayed clean with water. There were still unsightly bruises on his chest, but the worst of it was now washed away into the bathwater.

Arthur groaned and leaned into Francis, crawling onto his lap. The Frenchman, although he knew it wasn't why Arthur had sat in his lap, took advantage of the position and started scrubbing his back with the cloth. Whining slightly, Arthur nestled his head into Francis's neck.

"I'm not going to have sex with you in a tub, and at least not until you're better."

"I'm better now."

"You're so impatient, your body can't be fully healed."

"I'm telling you the truth. It's still sore, but I'm fine."

Francis removed Arthur's face from his neck, so that he could look at him. A cute pink blush adorned his cheeks, but he looked serious. He must have truly believed those words. He sighed, "I do want to, but you've just been abused." He smiled, "We don't have to rush anything, Arthur. I'm not about to leave you again."

Arthur leaned in and gave him a, surprisingly chaste, kiss of understanding. He understood that he was losing his head to Francis, but he didn't have to worry about their relationship faltering again. After all this, they wouldn't dare leave each other.

Francis kissed back, pulling Arthur closer to him.

They broke off the kiss before anything could get too heated, and Francis said, "You know, Christmas is just around the corner…"

Arthur blinked, "Oh wow. Already?"

Francis nodded, "In about a week." He added, "I normally spend the holiday over at Gilbert and Matthew's house, since Ludwig and Feliciano come too. Antonio and Lovino normally come, so we have our own dinner thing together."

Arthur frowned a little, "Why can't we just spend it together?"

Francis chuckled and ran his fingers through Arthur's now-clean hair, "Because they're like my extended family. Christmas is all about being with your family and friends." When Arthur still didn't look all that thrilled, he pecked him on the lips, "I'll make you a deal. We'll spend Christmas with our friends, and New Years Eve and New Years Day can just be the two of us."

Arthur thought it over then nodded, "Deal."

Francis looked back at the knob to turn the water off and on, and asked, "Are you getting cold any?" Arthur nodded, and Francis laughed, "I am too. Why don't we just get out and go to bed?"

"It's only about 4, Francis."

"But I'm tired, and I imagine that you are too."

"Very true. Will you carry me to bed?"

"_Oui, amour_. As you wish."

* * *

**Thanks for Reading~! Tell me what you think! :)**


	11. The Gem of Their December

**Author's Note: **I'm sorry that this chapter took so long to write. Distractions, distractions. Anyway, you already know that you can ask me questions about anything, and I'll do my best to answer them. Thanks to all of you who comment, favorite, and follow my story. You make me want to keep writing. :3

**Chapter Song: **"Simple and Clean" by Utada Hikaru

* * *

It was December 24th, Christmas Eve. Many individuals were out shopping for last minute gifts for their family and friends, or hoping that they were going to make enough money in the next few weeks to restore the hole in their budgets from buying so much for Christmas. However, Arthur and Francis were not following suit with everyone else.

Arthur had been healing alright after his ordeal at the Underbog, but Francis was still worried. He managed to talk the Brit into signing up for a check-up at the dermatologist, and his appointment was today. Arthur had protested that he didn't need Francis to come with him, but the Frenchman was not going to leave his side, not after what happened the last time they were separated.

Arthur pushed open the door, and a small bell rang overhead. Following his boyfriend inside, Francis grimaced to himself at the lack of decor in the dermatologist office. Arthur headed up to the counter and confirmed his appointment before the lady behind the desk handed him a form for him to fill out.

Sitting down with a pen, he filled out the paper and looked over the long list of ailments and whatnot that a patient could have. Francis noticed how reluctant Arthur looked while he checked "yes" for several of the boxes, but you couldn't exactly lie to a doctor. It wasn't in your best interest to do so. Eventually, the paper was filled with ink and he gave the clipboard back to the woman behind the desk. She gave him a smile, "Thanks. Lili will be with you in a minute."

The two sat back down on one of the waiting sofas and made small talk. It wasn't all that easy to talk so openly, especially whenever some of the people sitting in the dermatologist looked pretty somber and none of them were speaking.

Eventually, a woman in the back had called his name and both Arthur and Francis headed back into the office to the appointed room, and that Lili was already in there waiting for them. Francis gave Arthur a reassuring pat on the back, and his British boyfriend shot him a confused look.

"You looked a little nervous is all..."

"The burn's probably not that bad, it's all the rest of the stuff I had to put on that sheet. They asked me when was the last time I had sex! That's unnerving!"

Francis shushed him, "I'm sure they won't mention it. I'd not like to make a scene in a doctor's office."

Arthur sighed and nodded, pulling the door open and stepping inside. There was a hasty sentence of German that reached his ears, and the two peered into see a small doctor who was standing in the corner of the room on a cell phone. Her short blonde hair was chopped to her chin, and there was a small purple ribbon in her hair.

"_Warum? Du bist nie zu Hause!_" she was cut off, and Arthur could hear someone on the other end speaking back to her in German. "_Ja. Ja, aber-! Ja...ich weiß. Ich werde. Ich leibe dich, bruder. Tschüs._"

She hung up the phone and Arthur couldn't help but ask, "_Haben Sie ein Problem, vermissen_?" Ludwig had taught him some German whenever they were younger, and he still retained some phrases, not that asking if one had a problem was very hard to remember.

She turned, somewhat frightened by Arthur's voice and blushed at seeing the two men by the door. She hadn't even heard them come in! She calmed her beating heart and twirled a finger in her short hair, "Oh, nein...no, I'm fine." She then asked, "You're Arthur Kirkland, correct?" He nodded and took a seat on the examination table. Looking over at Francis, she spoke, "Friend of his?"

Francis chuckled, "Something like that."

Arthur laughed back, and the lady murmured, "It's none of my business, sorry for asking." She then said, "I'm Lili, pleasure to meet you." Lili picked up the folder that held Arthur's record information, and asked, "So, what brings you here today?"

Arthur scratched behind his ear and said, "Well..."

Francis interjected, as he could tell that Arthur wasn't sure how to put the situation into words, "It's some scars on his stomach."

Lili glanced between Francis and Arthur and finally spoke, "Alright. You wish to check the condition of these scars?" Arthur and Francis both nodded, and she wrote the situation down on a form. "Okay, can I see the scars?"

Arthur, without nodding or replying, pulled his shirt over his head and abandoned it behind him, revealing his chest to Lili. She said immediately, "Already, it looks the scars were both from something sharp and a heat source." Looking at the scars, she realized that they formed letters.

Without thinking, she read out the word on Arthur's stomach, "...Koehler..." Looking up at Arthur, she asked, "What is...?"

Arthur and Francis chorused together, "Please don't ask."

Lili nodded, "Sorry, it wasn't my place." She proceeded to examine Arthur's chest, and after 15 minutes of examining, thinking, and writing, she allowed Arthur to put his shirt back on, and smiled, "The scars aren't infected or anything, it'll be a while before they disappear, and they may still be white afterwards. That's all I can tell you, you just need time."

Francis gave her a smile, "Thank you very much, Miss Lili."

Arthur nodded, "_Danke._"

Lili giggled, replying in her language, "_Bitteschön._"

Arthur slid off the examination table, and said to her, "So, are you sure you didn't have a problem whenever we first came in?"

Lili opened her mouth to say "no", but she sighed and said, "It's my older brother. He's out late every night, and sometimes he comes home looking so disheveled - and that's only when he comes home. Most of the time, he'll only call to tell me that he won't be home until tomorrow." Her cheeks flushed up and her voice sounded strained, "I know he thinks I'm just being a pest and that I have no business in keeping tabs on him constantly, but...he's my brother! I only want to make sure that Vash is okay!"

Arthur's eyes widened. She was related to Vash? No wonder. Arthur never told Alleric that he was a whore, not that his red-headed older brother cared about him or anything. But, if he had cared, Arthur wouldn't be able to bring that kind of news to the ears of someone so close to them.

Lili looked like she was was on the verge of tears, and she protested, "If there's something going on, you should tell someone, right? Why won't he tell me if he's okay?" Arthur, not sure of what else he could do, opened his arms slightly to the give the invitation of a hug. Lili wrapped her arms around him, and he stroked her back to comfort her. Looking up at Francis, the Frenchman gave him a small smile of approval.

Arthur said, "You should talk to him, ask him to sit down and have a conversation with you for once. That way you can make sure that he's alright."

Lili nodded and removed herself from his hold, and she sniffed, "_Danke_." She giggled, trying to wipe away the tears threatening to form in her green eyes, "I'm guessing you never assumed that this would happen during your appointment?"

Arthur smiled, "It's alright. Someone has to be there to listen." He stole a glance towards Francis, who gave a slight nod of the head.

Arthur turned to leave with Francis, and said to Lili, "Good luck."

Lili gave them a little wave, "Thank you, have a great day, and a Merry Christmas."

Closing the door behind them, the two walked briskly towards the check-out desk, and Francis whispered to Arthur, "You looked surprised when she said her brother's name. Did you know him?"

Arthur nodded, "He was a whore that I worked with."

Francis protested, "But if you know him, shouldn't you have told her? She's probably worried sick about her brother!"

Arthur shook his head, "It wasn't my place to tell. If Vash wants to come clean, then he needs to tell her. Lili wouldn't be as happy if she found out from a stranger that her older brother's been a whore for who knows how long."

Francis shrugged, "I suppose you have a point." They reached the desk and Arthur gave them the information they needed and the two were walking out the door. Stretching his arms over his head, Francis spoke, "I can't wait to get back home. I still need to wrap up the present I bought."

It was tradition within their circle of friends to assign "Secret Santas". It was tempting to tell their roommates whom they were buying their present for, but that was the fun of finding out whenever everybody else gave out presents.

Arthur grinned, "You should have given the present to me and I could have wrapped it for you. You clearly lack the patience to do it yourself."

Francis protested, "_Non_! You're waiting to see what it is whenever I give it to person I chose, just like everyone else."

Arthur sighed, "Fine. Fine. Just hurry up and wrap it before I get curious."

The two headed home and finished their preparations for tomorrow. Christmas was going to be quite a bit different this year, with Arthur as the new edition.

* * *

Arthur was fighting against his wish to fall asleep against Francis, as the Frenchman had warned him what Gilbert would do to wake him back up. He'd rather listen to the conversation between the others than get a stupid yellow bird cheeping in his ear and pecking at him. Francis did say that Gilbird was ruthless.

So, there he was, leaning against Francis's shoulder, while seated in a circle on the floor near the Christmas tree. It hadn't just been the Trio and their partners, Ludwig and Feliciano came, and Charlotte came with her boyfriend Roberto, who was a cousin of Feliciano and Lovino's.

The presents had all been dealt out, and now the lot of them were lounging around the warm fireplace and talking. It turns out that Francis had been his Secret Santa, and now Arthur had a much-needed cell phone. Arthur was the Secret Santa for Lovino, and all he could have thought to give him was a gift card to an Italian restaurant. The look of happiness that the normally-angry Italian gave him would be forever ingrained in his head, and Antonio's - since he snapped a photo of his facial expression before Lovino started yelling at his boyfriend. It was entertaining and fun, but Arthur's preference still was laying on Francis and ignoring the lot of them. He was looking forward to the next holiday, as his love had promised that they could just spend it alone; as Arthur was growing tired of having to constantly hang out with Antonio and Gilbert. Was there anything wrong with wanting some alone time?

Arthur felt warm fingers running through his hair, and he leaned into the touch, like a puppy that was desperate for attention. He heard Francis chuckle softly, "Were you waiting for me to give you my attention?"

Arthur whispered, "I'm bored here, Francis. Can't we go home?" He sounded like a child who was forced to be in a room with adults that didn't want to talk to him, and there were no other children to play with.

Francis frowned, "But it's Christmas, it's against the whole spirit of things if we were to simply leave after opening gifts. Adults stay a while and talk to each other about things."

"But we see most of these people every other day."

"Every few days Arthur..."

"Whatever. Either way, I'm sure you know the business of most of them, and Roberto's been doing a lot of the talking. We know the gossip, can't we go now?"

Francis sighed, "Artie..."

Arthur groaned and sat back against him, not willing to accept bitter defeat. Francis whispered in his ear, "If you had allowed me to talk for a couple more seconds, I was going to say that we could go in a few minutes." Arthur perked up, and Francis laughed, "You're so difficult."

Suddenly, he looked out to the group and said, "Me and Arthur are going to go home."

Gilbert protested from his seat in between Ludwig and Matthew, "What?! Running out on us early again?"

Matthew shushed, "Gil, don't be rude." He looked up to the now-standing Francis and Arthur and smiled, "Thanks for coming, you two."

The duo both chorused, "You're welcome."

Gilbert grinned, "But since the Christmas party was here, you guys gotta host the New Year's party, okay?"

Francis replied, "Ah, actually...me and Arthur are going to spend New Year's alone..."

There were protests from Feliciano, Gilbert, Antonio, and Roberto; but, Francis cut them off, "We'll host Easter or something!"

Gilbert pouted, "Fine, but we're not letting you slide the next time!"

Francis called as he was walking, "Right, right. See you all later!" And he closed the front door once he stepped through it with Arthur.

Arthur rolled his eyes, "How many times has he told us that?"

Francis spoke, "It would be fewer if you didn't always ask me to take you home."

"Is it wrong wanting to spend time with you?"

"No, of course not."

"But it's wrong wanting to spend _alone_ time with you?"

"It's wrong by Gilbert's standards, I guess."

"Wouldn't he want to spend time with Matthew alone more?"

"They've been together for a lot longer than we have, though. It's different for them. And besides, Gilbert probably has sex with Matthew every single night."

"Charming."

"It's probably true though, knowing Gil."

"I can't disagree."

"Why did you want some extra alone time?"

"It'll be a secret until we get back home."

"Aww."

* * *

Francis locked the door to the apartment, and tossed the keys onto the counter. He looked over at Arthur, whom was slouching against the wall. He repeated, "So, why did you want some extra alone time?"

Arthur gave him a smirk, and strode forward. He leaned up, and kissed Francis passionately on the lips, and placed his hands on his shoulders to help him gain some height to accomplish the task. Francis hummed at the feel of it, and melted into the kiss, prodding his tongue at Arthur's lips. Arthur gave in and opened his mouth to Francis, his fingers deftly undoing the buttons of his coat and dropping the winter garment onto the floor.

Francis understood where this was going, and although he was planning on screwing Arthur during New Years, Christmas wasn't a bad substitute. He shed most of his and Arthur's clothing, before the two disconnected from a kiss and looked up at each other.

Arthur spoke softly, "Bedroom."

Francis nodded, spoke an _"oui"_, and the two headed off into the bedroom before resuming their kiss. The Frenchman pushed his British lover onto the bed, and crawled on top of him. Running his fingers over Arthur's skin was making his smaller love tremble, and it turned his cheeks a rosy color. _Merde_, he was just too damn cute. He pulled off his own pants and boxers, then removed Arthur's. He grinned at how aroused Arthur looked, and the man in particular hissed, "If you give me another hand job again, I'll fucking kill you."

"Oh why would I do such a thing, _mon amour_?" Francis chimed, while pumping Arthur's cock slowly with his hand, savoring the moans and whimpers that his love was gifting him with. This was far better than any Christmas present one could ever receive. He brushed his tongue over Arthur's nipples, turning them hard and red. Arthur wailed softly, and grasped onto fistfuls of Francis's locks; urging him to hurry up with the foreplay. Foreplay could be savored whenever they were sitting on a sofa. They were lying on their damn bed and Arthur was horny. Francis seemed to get the message before Arthur could pull out all of his hair, and he reached over to their bedside table to dig around in the drawer for a bottle of lube. Coating his finger with plenty of the substance, lifts up Arthur's hips to trace one of his fingers at Arthur's entrance.

Pushing one of his digits inside of him, Arthur hissed at the feeling. It had certainly been awhile before fingers had entered him and not just another man's dick. But, eventually, the slow thrusting of fingers was causing the Brit to moan and silently beg for more than just fingers. He wailed, "Francis...hurry..."

Francis gave a small nod, and removed his fingers. He spread the lube over himself and lined himself up at Arthur's entrance. Pushing it without as much as a warning, Arthur cried out from the feeling, and Francis was worried about whether or not it was a cry of pleasure or pain. But, he sheathed himself all the way inside of his lover before he did anything else. Arthur grasped onto Francis's shoulders and called softly, "Move..." Following the order, Francis began moving himself out of Arthur before slamming himself back inside. Arthur's moans that dripped with lust soothed his fear of hurting his lover on their first time. So with his worries set aside, Francis began picking up the pace, pushing himself deep inside the Englishman and abusing his prostate until Arthur's cheeks had turned dark red from all the noise he was making. Francis reached down and started pumping his lover's cock quickly and in time with his thrusts, causing Arthur to start raising the volume of his cries.

"Fran...Francis! I'm gonna...!"

"I know...together..."

With the last few strokes, Arthur came undone and screamed out his love's name, shooting his seed across their stomachs and clenching his walls so that Francis would follow suit.

Breathing heavily and lying together on their bed, Arthur and Francis remained silent until the latter spoke, "So, did I live up to your expectations?"

Arthur laughed, "No...you were better."

Francis chuckled back, "I'm honored." Giving him a rough kiss, he looked down at Arthur and said, "I don't think I've ever had such a good Christmas."

Arthur smiled, "Never been given the gift of a warm body, have you?"

"Can't say that I have."

"Then it'll be easy getting a birthday present for you."

"I certainly have something to look forward to then."

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	12. The Many Surprises of New Years

**Author's Note: **As I've said before, I'm very grateful to you all who follow/favorite/comment on my story! More lovely M-stuff to come your way (though I still suck at writing it *sweatdrop*)! Have questions? Feel free to ask em!

**Chapter Song: **"Whataya Want From Me" by Adam Lambert

* * *

Pushing through the crowds, Francis maintained a firm grip on Arthur's wrist. He'd easily get lost within all the citizens of Manhattan if they didn't stay together. There must have been thousands - no, millions - of people packed into this portion of the city. There were even points in time whenever Arthur could barely see Francis and was left following the hand that was attached to him.

But, Francis planned to make all of this annoying pushing and pulling all worthwhile. It was New Years Eve, about 11:30 in fact. The people were crowded into Time Square, waiting for the New Years Ball to drop, as it did annually. Meanwhile, celebrities and the likes were performing for the crowds that had been there ever since 5:00 pm. Francis and Arthur were walking on the streets, rather than running blindly down the middle of the street where the pens were. They'd get caught by security, whom was probably more jumpy tonight, due to the insane amount of people in the Time Square.

He was looking for a specific building, and he could see it a couple blocks away. But, instead of dislocating his boyfriend's shoulder, he stopped and allowed for Arthur to catch up with him. Francis released Arthur's wrist, and the Brit rotated his shoulder blade a few times in order to release the tension. Arthur raised an eyebrow at Francis, and spoke somewhat loudly (as there were thousands of loud people around them), "Couldn't be any gentler than that, could you?"

Francis apologized, "Sorry, but it's easy to get lost with so many people out here tonight."

Arthur shrugged, "I would have been fine with just staying home and watching the ball drop on the television. It's really cold out here."

Francis pouted, "That's no fun! Besides, there's a really cool place where we can see it drop. And there won't be any people there!"

Arthur blinked, "How's that possible? There's people everywhere!"

"It's a surprise, _mon amour._ Patience."

Letting out a sigh, Arthur could only get dragged along as Francis pulled him through the people. He suddenly stopped after a few minutes, causing Arthur to run into Francis's backside and peered around to see why he had stopped. The Frenchman was speaking to some police officer.

"Excuse me, sir. But I need to get into this building." Arthur looked up, and noticed that it was an office building. What in the hell was Francis thinking? There was no way he'd be allowed in here at a time like this!

The police officer, like Arthur, didn't look very convinced, "You have proof that you can be in here?"

France nodded, "_Oui_." He dug into his pocket, and pulled out what looked to be an employee card. Arthur tried not to drop his jaw in disbelief. Francis didn't even work here!

The police officer looked over the card and up at Francis for a few minutes. He gave the card back to him and said, "Don't be here to stir up trouble, alright?"

Francis smirked, "Not at all, sir. If you don't trust either of us, you can give us full body scans once we come out." With a nicer tone, he spoke, "Being a police officer must be rough on New Years, isn't it?"

He nodded, and Francis continued, "Well, I thank you for what you do."

The police officer shrugged and chuckled in amusement, "Well, someone has to do it. Don't hang around in that building for too long, wouldn't want to miss the fireworks, would you?" He unlocked the door for them.

Francis laughed, "No worries, sir." He led Arthur inside the building, and the police man locked the door back up again.

Arthur turned to Francis in disbelief, but continued following him inside the dark building, "How did you...you don't work here, do you?"

"Of course I don't."

"Then why...how do you have an employee card?!"

"Gilbert works here, he managed to pull a couple strings and made me a card so I can access the building."

"What?!"

"Calm down, _favori_, I only use the card on New Years Eve."

"Can I ask why?"

"Thats the surprise."

"Look here, I'm cold, it's New Years Eve, and you just managed to French your way into a building where you have a fake card to, and I still don't have any idea on what in the hell is going on. I'm iffy about this surprise."

Francis stopped in front of an elevator and pushed the up button. He spoke with a slight pout, "_'French my way in here'_? That's a tad rude to the French."

Arthur snapped, "I don't care if it is rude! Francis, what are we doing?!"

Francis sighed and rolled his eyes, "Fine, ruin such a nice surprise..." He continued after a pause, "The top of this building has a good view of the New Year's ball. I figured you may have wanted to see it a little closer rather than having to watch it from the ground."

"Oh..."

"Yeah, Gil and Toni would do this with Lovi and Matt, but the others eventually preferred to stay home or throw a party or watch the ball drop on the TV."

"Oh...I see."

The elevator opened up, and Francis stepped inside, "Do I get an apology?"

Arthur stepped in after him, "Yeah, yeah. I'm sorry." When Francis pushed the button to the top floor, Arthur snapped, "But if we get in trouble for doing this...!"

Francis laughed, "Calm down, Artie. The police only care about people getting trampled in the streets. We'll be fine!"

Arthur muttered, leaning against the wall, "Sure we will..."

"Hey, Artie."

"Yeah?"

"Look out the window."

Arthur blinked and realized that one of the walls was made out of glass, and he could see outside. He looked down to see the people crowded in the streets of Time Square, and to see the glowing buildings and ads. He smiled a little, "It's pretty nice up here." Looking up, he saw that the sign that would light up whenever it was Midnight was a lot closer than before. The sky was clear above that, already dotted with lots of stars, though not very visible with all of New York City's lights.

"See why I liked it so much?"

"Yeah." Suddenly, the elevator stopped abruptly, and Arthur lost his footing while Francis gripped onto one of the bars in the elevator. Arthur growled, "That's not a very smooth stop." Looking back at the doors, he asked, "Why haven't they opened yet?"

Francis examined that the number floor they were on was apparently on was 25, instead of the desired 38. The arrow was still showing that they were supposed to be moving up, but he couldn't feel the elevator box moving. More than likely, the elevator was stuck in between floor 25 and 26. The Frenchman sighed, "Um, I think we're stuck..."

Arthur screamed out, "Stuck?! No way, no way in hell! There's gotta be a limited amount of air in this fucking thing! We _can't_ be trapped in here! We'll suffocate!"

Francis pointed up to the ceiling, "There's air conditioning and shafts for this thing, we'll be alright. We're not going to suffocate."

Arthur began to panic, "Still! We're trapped in an elevator on the 25th floor! Even if we break the glass, it's a jump to our deaths!"

Francis leaned against the wall and rolled his eyes at Arthur's protesting. His love could be so scatterbrained sometime. There was a button to call for emergency help.

However, Francis wasn't really interested in calling for help yet. It was New Years. He swore to himself that he going to spend it with Arthur, and it would just be the two of them together. With the glass window, they could see whenever the ball would drop, even if they weren't at the very top. And being trapped in the elevator was certainly time alone together. Checking his phone, he saw that there was less than ten minutes left until New Years. Quickly hiding it again, he watched as Arthur paced back in forth, beginning to clutch his hair and pressed his nose to the window. Giving a hopeless sigh, he called, "Arthur!" The man turned back to look at him, and Francis smiled, "You wanted to spend New Years with me alone, _oui_? Well, you're with me and we're alone. And from what it looks like, we won't be going anywhere anytime soon."

Arthur's frown suddenly didn't look so upset, and Francis nodded, "So, even if we're not on the roof, we have a warm elevator to keep us comfortable, we can watch the ball drop and see the fireworks from here, and we have each other." He smirked, "Sounds like a pretty good New Years to me."

Arthur gave a small smile in return, "I suppose being trapped in an elevator with you isn't so bad."

Francis laughed, "What do you mean 'isn't so bad?' Are you trying to be funny again?"

He didn't reply, but came up to Francis and wrapped his arms around him in a hug. Francis smiled and hugged him back. Arthur really warm, but he supposed that was just because of all the jackets and the shivering he had been doing. Feeling a smooth hand grip onto the back of his neck, Francis leaned down as the hand gently pushed on his neck to dip down to Arthur's level, and hummed in delight whenever he was gifted with Arthur's soft lips. The younger tilted his head to create some friction and to deepen their kiss.

Want, but not quite desperation was seeping in as the two's kiss grew slightly more frantic, and Francis curled his fingers tightly into Arthur's jacket. He shuddered in delight whenever Arthur pushed his tongue inside Francis's mouth and pulled his hips against his own. He was acting more dominant, and although Francis didn't understand why, he thought this could be a very interesting night for the both of them.

Twisting their tongues and pressing themselves closer together, the two men found themselves on the elevator floor. Quickly remembering that they were in an elevator with one side made out of glass, Francis frantically pulled the curtain across the bar at the top in order to conceal their deeds. Having their sex being watched would just sour the mood. Arthur pulled on Francis's arms, forcing him to lie on top of his younger lover, and resume their kiss. For such dominate actions before, Arthur was quick to accept the receiver position. Must have been a force of habit or something. Bucking his hips up, Arthur nearly wined underneath of Francis for him to hurry up and start pulling his clothes off. If they were going to do this, then he'd better hurry up before Arthur lost his excitement.

But, the Frenchman had a better idea. He wrapped his legs around Arthur's and grasped onto his waist. Without any vocal warning, he flipped his and Arthur's positions, the older now on the bottom and the younger on top. His lover looked clearly surprised, and opened his mouth to question his action, before Francis shushed him and said smoothly, "Fuck me, Arthur."

His cheeks turning crimson, Arthur was amazed that Francis had even considered giving him the role of dominant and taking passive. Hadn't he ever told him that he'd only topped once?

Francis could tell that Arthur was clearly anxious about it, but he wasn't going to embarrass him by offering to lead him through the process. He was fairly certain that Arthur had done this before, if seldom, so it would just be a humiliating offer. He could take the lead, he was just nervous.

But, despite his nervousness, his throbbing cock was urging him to do something. So, Arthur immediatley began stripping Francis's torso, first of his coat, then of his shirt. Button-up, how charming. It was almost as if Francis had planned to have sex with him on this exact night (he did). Pushing away the shirt, he started feeling up Francis's chest with one hand while trying to undress himself with the other. Luckily, the Frenchman could see his struggling fingers in between his quiet moans, and reached up to help his smaller lover. Once Arthur's torso was bare, he focused entirely back on Francis. Nipping and sucking on his neck, Francis growled with delight at every slight move. Tongue rolling over lips and neck, Francis began to wonder if being on the bottom had it's own benefits. He'd only been in this position once, as Arthur had only topped once. While it would have been a little more special if they had been each other's firsts to change positions, it would be like reliving the experience, as it had been a long while for the both of them.

Arthur was assaulting Francis's mouth with his tongue, his nipples with one hand, and reaching down to rub at the bulge in his pants with the other; torturously slow he may add. He wondered if all the pleasure would drown him in the elevator, but he was also aware enough to know that such an occurrence would be impossible. Bucking his hips up, Francis urged Arthur to hurry up. But the Brit wasn't interested in making haste. Damned man, he nearly smirked, he growled for the Frenchman to go faster and now that he held the reigns, he wouldn't listen to his own pleas.

Eventually, however, Arthur managed to remove Francis's pants and underwear, and began stroking skin to skin. Whining loudly, Francis squeezed his eyes shut whenever his younger lover began pumping his erection to life, his mouth trying to make noise but was just left open to gape. Cheeks flushing dark pink and fingers curling into the skin of his forearms, his mere noises paraded Arthur forward, and soon took Francis's pulsing organ into his mouth.

"Ah...! Arthur!" Francis called out whenever he felt a warm, wet cavern around him. He'd never felt this much pleasure before in his life. Why in the hell had Alfred only allowed Arthur to top once?! His tongue slithered under the vein and nearly deep throated the cock, suckling eagerly. He hadn't really ever enjoyed the taste of pre-cum, but Francis's taste was one he liked. He was pushing Francis's thighs open, caressing his sac a little more gingerly, but it was still enough to make the Frenchman whimper. Mon dieu, what else could Arthur do to him?

Finally pulling off of Francis's dick with a clear "pop!", just in time to make sure that Francis didn't come before they had actually had sex, Arthur then proceeded to stick three fingers in his own mouth and suck on them. When his older lover realized what he was doing, he suggested to him, "I did bring lube, you know. It's in my coat pocket."

Arthur freed his digits from his lips for a second, and laughed, "You dastardly bastard. You really did plan this, didn't you?"

"Not us getting stuck in the elevator."

"You're heart must have leapt whenever it stopped."

"Hey, I'm not that perverse!"

"Please..." he examined his fingers and replied, "It's fine. I don't need it." Giving his fingers a few extra licks, he managed to unzip his pants to free his growing erection, and kicked off his slacks and boxers. Crawling back on top of Francis, he traced the inside of the Frenchman's thighs before pressing one finger at his entrance. Pushing it inside, Francis growled at the feeling. He hadn't really ever have fingers intrude him before, so he was new to the sensation. Despite hearing the growl, Arthur continued his process of stretching out the man underneath him, though he was gentle. When he was up to three fingers, Francis had relaxed quite a bit more, to which Arthur was relieved for. Removing the fingers, he leaned down to kiss Francis roughly while he pushed inside of him. Francis hissed, but it died out after a couple seconds later.

From there, Arthur began thrusting slowly, trying to bring himself up into the speeding crescendo slowly. This was newer for both parties, and he didn't want to fuck up his chance of impressing Francis with his dominance. It wasn't until he heard the breathless call of "go faster" before he started speeding up to a higher degree. The sound of skin slapping against skin dominated the room, along with Francis's loud moans. Sweat coated the pair as the thrusts grew faster and pounded even deeper.

Francis was close, and Arthur wasn't far behind. When Francis fell over the edge, he cried out his love's name, shooting his seed across Arthur's stomach and clenching his walls instinctively so that Arthur could complete as well. His name resonated in the metal box and soon, he collapsed on top of his panting lover underneath of him.

Arthur gave a small whisper, "H-How was I?"

Francis laughed, "You were great, _amour_. Better than great." He stroked some of Arthur's choppy blonde hair in encouragement. The Brit smiled, pleased. He had been able to face up to his worries of topping. Francis continued, "You should lead more often. I've never had anyone make me feel so good."

Arthur blushed, "Okay, okay...you don't have to say things for my sake." He started sitting up to allow Francis some breathing room.

"I meant it."

"Oh...thanks."

"You're very welcome."

Arthur glanced down at his stomach and asked, somewhat embarrassed, "You wouldn't have prepared for this as well, wouldn't you?"

Francis grinned, "Check in my coat pockets." Sure enough, Francis had brought towelettes for this exact situation.

Arthur narrowed his eyes and threw one at him, "You perverted bastard."

"I'd rather be called a perverted bastard than not be prepared."

Cleaning themselves off, they changed back into their clothes, but remained sitting on the floor of the elevator. Sitting in each other's arms, Francis pulled back the curtain, and suddenly the countdown rang through the air. It probably had been going on for a little while, but they just couldn't hear it.

The two soon joined in, whispering it along with the screaming citizens down below, "10 ... 9 ... 8 ... 7 ... 6 ... 5 ... 4 ... 3 ... 2 ... 1 ...!"

Screaming rang down below as fireworks surged up ahead as the New Years ball landed on the platform below, and the two males embraced and kissed each other.

Francis grinned, "Happy New Years, Arthur."

Arthur smiled back, "And Happy New Years to you in return."

The two remained sitting there for a few minutes, relished completely in each other. But, their peaceful rest was interrupted whenever the elevator started flying down the shaft of the building, _very very __fast_. Clutching onto each other, the two screamed for dear mercy until the elevator opened up beside them and the police officer that had gained them entrance was standing there with a repair man.

The officer asked, "You two okay? I noticed that the elevator was stuck. Why didn't you call for emergency help earlier."

The two quickly disconnected and Arthur said, "Ah, it was alright. We had a good view of the outside and it was New Years Eve. We didn't really want to trouble someone for help on a night of celebrating. At least a little while afterwards."

Francis nodded in agreement, and the police officer sighed, "Well, can I ask the two of you to just get out of here? I'll let something like this slide, as it is New Years, but try to stay out of trouble while you're here." The two stood and chorused a somewhat half-hearted "yes sir", before taking their leave.

Hand-in-hand, the two headed down the streets, that were slowly becoming clearer and clearer. Most of the people had walked back to their hotels or taxi cabs, and so the two blonds could just take their sweet time walking back home. Talking freely, the two had never felt more alive than tonight, and nothing could dampen their spirits now.

* * *

Stopping at a small store on their way home, Francis spoke, "Want some more cigarettes?"

Arthur nodded, "I'll wait outside."

Giving a small shrug, the Frenchman headed inside, and Arthur stayed outside in the cold air. Leaning into the bricks, he couldn't help but recall the memory of him and Ludwig standing against a brick wall, much like this one, and smoking cigarettes while making small talk. It was merely four weeks ago, but it still seemed so long ago. Smiling, he realized that so much had been looking up to him ever since Francis had rescued him from possible comatose in an alleyway. He had always wondered why he had done it, but he felt so blessed that he did. If he hadn't, he would have remained the worthless bitch to Koehler and the rest of the whores would be his only "friends".

"Hey...you..."

Looking up, Arthur's gaze met with a pair of green eyes and brown hair. Eyes widening, he hissed in disbelief, "Hera...?"

The man of Greek descent nodded, "It's good to see you again, Arthur. You look healthy. Koehler's been easing up on you?"

Arthur blinked and shook his head, "No...I...I ran away..."

Heracles scolded, "Ran away?! Are you crazy?"

The blond backfired, "You're one to talk, why haven't you left New York yet? If Koehler ever saw you around these parts, he'd kill you!"

Heracles didn't look unfazed, "He wouldn't. He fired me, I didn't run from him."

Arthur growled, "I'm surprised that I didn't run from him a long time ago, my life away from the Underbog has been great ever since I left!"

Heracles crossed his arms, "Think you can beat me? I've been living with Sadik."

Jaw dropping, he spoke, "_Sadik_?! The Turk?"

"I don't recall stuttering the sentence, Arthur."

"Why in the hell are you living with him?! He's defiled you!"

"Just because you couldn't handle his dick doesn't mean I can't."

"You know he slept with me, and you still live with him?"

"Of course. Sadik treasures me. That's why he always kept coming back for me."

Arthur backed away, more love found in the Underbog?! Toris and Felicks, Vash and Roderich, and now Heracles and Sadik?! This fucked up city made no sense! Pivoting on heel, he dashed into the store to find Francis and to cool his head. He needed to be around someone who made some sense.

But, he felt his body smack into a larger body, and a nose and mouth bump into his own. A brief kiss, one could count it as. But, as the other individual groaned and stepped back, Arthur felt his heart sink when he saw who it was. His face paled, and his green eyes widened. Tan skin, blue eyes, blonde hair. Holy fuck, he not only ran into his ex, he accidentally kissed him! His body fought to stay grounded, and the younger man looked up at Arthur with shock. Alfred was carrying a brown bag filled with items, and Ivan had been browsing at magazines until Alfred sneered, "What the fuck...?!" Ivan's eyes widened as he noticed Arthur standing before his boyfriend, and walked briskly to his side.

Arthur couldn't speak. No words could form from his lips.

Alfred demanded, "What kind of dirty trick was that, Kirkland? You playing a game or something?" He said, not quite as rudely, "I don't believe exes kiss each other when they stumble across each other at a convenience store."

Arthur stammered, "Al-Alfred, I didn't mean to! I swear!"

"What's going on?"

The three looked over to see Francis carrying over a bag of items, more than what he went in to get initially, and narrowed his eyes at Alfred and Ivan, even if he didn't know who they were. Stepping over to be at Arthur's side, he snarled, "What do you think you're doing?"

Alfred looked between Francis and Arthur, and didn't fail to notice whenever Arthur curled his fingers into Francis's jacket. He didn't bother answering the older blond, and instead looked to Ivan. "Let's go." Wiping his lips, he led Ivan out of the store, leaving the other pair to just stand there.

Francis looked to his love, blue eyes filled with concern, "Arthur, what happened? What did they want with you?"

Arthur lowered his head, trying to hide the blush that had spread across his cheeks, "It's not important, let's go home..."

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	13. Their Side of the Story

**Author's Note: **Only a couple chapters left! Thanks so much to everyone who's supported the story, I love you all! :D

**Song for Chapter:** "My Oh My" by Tristan Prettyman

* * *

Alfred had been sitting at the table, clutching a mug of coffee a little more tightly in his palm, his mind racing in circles. It had been a week ever since New Years night. Ivan and he had gone out to the swell of the crowd to stand in Time Square to listen to the entertainment, watch the ball drop, and see the fireworks. The night had been great, until they decided to run into the convenience store for some bagels and other assortments for tomorrow's breakfast. It was there that he, quite literally, ran into Arthur. Well, more like "ran and kissed" into him. He hadn't been freed from watching the scene over and over in his mind for this whole period of time, and Ivan could tell that it was eating at him. He was good at that kind of thing, telling if he had something on his mind.

Thinking of Ivan, the very man dawdled into the kitchen and looked over at his lover that was curled up in thought over his cup of coffee. Stepping closer to his position. He leaned down slightly to make eye contact with him before straightening back up.

He said in a hushed tone, "_Fredka_..." he was using his endearing nickname for him, he could tell that something was wrong with Alfred, "...if you squeeze the handle of that mug any tighter, you're bound to hurt yourself if you haven't already." It was true, Alfred's white-knuckled clutch on the item was looking rather painful, and he soon snapped out of his daze and set the cup on the table. Ivan frowned, "You're thinking about him again, _da_?"

Alfred blinked several times to truly get himself focused back on his Russian boyfriend, a tad shocked by the firm calmness of his tone. He didn't sound so angry as he did sad. Guilt surged through the American, and words spilled out, "No...I'm just..."

Ivan shook his head, "You don't have to lie _Fredka_, I understand why."

As much as the words were aimed to sound reassuring, Alfred thought that they sounded hollow and somewhat bleak. It hurt to hear his Vanya talk like that. He sounded like a heartbroken child being forced to walk away from some pretty girl who wasn't impressed by a couple of wildflowers that he picked for her. Alfred longed to say something that would set his fears aside, but he wasn't sure what words could have the power to do that.

"If I could help it, I would," he looked up at Ivan and said, "_Prosti menya_..."

Ivan, in turn, gave a small smile and said, "It's alright, don't apologize." He headed over to the table and wrapped his arms around the American, burying his face slightly in his neck, "I just thought that he would be out of our lives by now..." There was a lingering thought of "is it so selfish to wish that?". But Alfred wouldn't respond to it, he both agreed and disagreed with it. He certainly hated being the bad guy, and he wasn't going to risk playing it to Ivan.

* * *

Francis had been pacing the living room floor for the past twenty or twenty-five minutes, anxiously worried. Ever since their run-in with those two men at the convenience store, Arthur had been constantly troubled and quiet. He wouldn't even give a name as to whom they were. He had asked him several times if he wanted to talk about it; but the last time he did, Arthur had threatened to throw the lamp at him if he asked again (because he insisted that he was okay), but Francis was smart enough to see past his facade. He wasn't sure what to do to help him, but he decided to dial-up Gilbert and Antonio first. When the Frenchman needed advice, he knew who to turn to.

Three-way-calling was a life saver, and when the familiar rings of "_Hola_" and "_Tag_" sounded from the receiver he gave a relieved smile. He just hoped that anything that Toni and Gil told him wouldn't raise the volume of his voice. It was only seven thirty, and Arthur was sleeping soundly. He hadn't been getting out of bed until ten thirty or eleven on some days. It was worrisome.

He spoke quietly, "Gil, Toni, I need some advice."

Antonio yawned, "This can't wait a little while longer? I was sleeping..."

Gilbert replied, "Yeah, I need my beauty sleep Francy. Is this important? Did Arthur run away again?"

Francis sighed, "No, it's about this thing that happened on New Years."

"What happened?" Gilbert asked.

"The sex not work out?" Antonio, very surprisingly, said. However, the two other friends knew that Toni tended to be a little more straightforward (not to mention vulgar) whenever he had to be up early, so they didn't immediatley screech in shock.

Francis shook his head, "No...it's these people that we ran into..." When the two didn't say anything, Francis went on, "I went in one of those convenient stores to get some cigarettes, even if I found a bunch of other stuff that looked good too, and I expected that Arthur was just going to wait outside, but then I saw him being confronted by these two men and he was saying something along the lines of 'I didn't mean to, I swear'. He won't tell me anything about it, and it's obvious that it's eating away at him."

Gilbert sighed, "Why do you make my mornings feel like they belong in a soap opera?"

Antonio snapped, "Gil, that's rude and won't help. Francy, did you hear anything else or notice anything about them?"

Francis rubbed the back of his neck, "Hmm...the two of them seem close, and the blonde one was the one who was doing all of the talking, and from what I saw...I think Arthur accidentally kissed him and he got pissed off, but he was also looking me and Artie over."

"I get the feeling like that blonde may have history. Were they together before?"

"Well I don't want to jump to conclusions, but..."

Gilbert suddenly perked up, "Wait! What did the blonde look like?"

"Umm, he was wearing some kind of leather jacket, like one that war-time pilots have, and he had glasses..."

"Francis."

"_Oui_?"

"The reason Arthur didn't want to say anything because that was Alfred; the guy with him was probably Ivan."

Francis nearly dropped the phone, "Arthur's ex? That was him?!"

"Yeah, that jacket was practically glued to his body all through college. He stopped growing senior year I think, so I'm not surprised if it still fits."

"But still...I can't believe that Alfred would do that to his own ex. Hasn't he hurt him enough? He's cheated on him, and he still has the nerve to act like a dick to him?!"

"I think Mattie's bitched about that too."

He heard a clicking noise, and assumed that Antonio felt like he couldn't contribute to the conversation and hung up. He felt bad about that, but that's not what he cared about at the very moment. Francis snarled, "I'm tired of Arthur getting hurt; I wish I could just do something to prevent Alfred from hurting him anymore."

"Then do so."

"What?"

"Beat some sense into him, I don't know. If you're worried that Arthur's going to do something crazy, then take care of the problem before one starts. And, you could probably get some information as to why Alfred cheated on Arthur. You can't seriously tell me that you haven't wanted to know why."

"You're such an ass, Gil. What's his number?"

* * *

Tapping his fingers on the counter, Francis impatiently waited out the rings of the phone before there was a click on the other line.

"_Privet?_"

"I'm looking for Alfred."

"I live with Alfred, may I ask who's calling?"

Francis sighed, "I'm Francis Bonnefoy, I was with Arthur at the convenience store."

"Ohh...then I suppose your reason for calling concerns him, Mr. Bonnefoy?" Francis wasn't sure if that was supposed to be a snide comment.

"If it's not too much to ask, I'd like to speak to Mr. Jones about him."

Ivan looked over to Alfred, who had realized what kind of conversation he was having, and noticed that the sunny blonde was half freaking out. Ivan shrugged, "I suppose that's reasonable, especially since you asked nicely."

"Don't talk like you're mocking me, Ivan."

The Russian respected the boldness in Francis, it was certainly amusing, "My apologies. Why don't you come by our apartment later on? How does eleven sound?"

"That sounds fine."

"Good, I look forward to meeting you, Francis."

And then Francis hung up without any goodbye. Ivan glanced back at Alfred and said, "I think the time's come to set things straight, _Fredka_."

Alfred frowned, "_Vanya_, what if he yells at me?"

"I don't want to scare you, but I think you might get yelled at. You practically snapped at Arthur in a store. I think Mr. Bonnefoy is currently in possession of him."

"You make him sound like he's some kind of object."

"You sound like you care."

"I..." Alfred sighed and discontinued his thought; he knew that Ivan wasn't trying to cause trouble, but the things he said...sometimes they were just a little over the line and not necessary.

* * *

When Arthur woke up, he growled at the ten-fifty flashing on the clock and rolled out of bed. Still worn out from their activities from the following evening, Arthur trudged through the living room and searched for Francis. It seemed like he wasn't here.

Looking for clues, he saw a note on the fridge and read it silently: _"Gone out to get milk, be back in several hours. - Francis :)"_

What the fuck? He grumbled to himself, "Thats a load of rubbish." Crumpling the note and throwing it out, he opened the fridge door and saw that they had a full carton of milk already in there. He nearly chuckled to himself, and leaned against the refrigerator, "Francis, if you're going to not tell me where you're going, you could at least come up with a decent lie." He figured that he wouldn't immediatley resort to asking Gilbert or Antonio if they knew where he went. They were his closest friends, but they probably didn't keep tabs on him all the time. So, chances are that calling them would just be a waste of time.

Striding back into the living room, he decided to do something that would take a few hours, since that was the time that Francis had left for him. Noticing the large photo box in the corner by the television, he saw that there were a couple album books stacked underneath the box. Francis had mentioned that he wanted to transfer the photos eventually, but never could find a time where he desired the task. Now that Arthur was bored, he figured that this would take his mind off the fact that Francis was out doing who-in-the-hell-knows-what. So, he seized the box and several of the album books and got to work.

* * *

Francis knocked on the door, examining the address that Ivan had told him once again. Right apartment complex, right number on the door. And the door creaked open where a large Russian man was standing in front of. Francis easily recognized him as the man he saw at the store. He was wearing the same scarf, even if he was inside his own apartment.

Ivan greeted him, "_Privet_, come in."

Francis stepped inside, examining the apartment and noticed the blonde sitting at the table, nursing some drink. Alfred F. Jones. The Frenchman immediatley wanted to begin yelling at him, but he ignored the irritating sensation prodding at the back of his brain. Yelling would get him nowhere, and this was for Arthur's sake. He probably didn't buy the lie on the note, he just hoped that he wasn't going to do anything rash because of it.

Ivan smiled, "Have a seat. Can I get you anything to drink?"

Francis shook his head, "No, I'm alright." And on that note, Ivan took a seat next to Alfred, leaving the Frenchman to sit across from them.

The Russian said politely, "The floor is yours, Mr. Bonnefoy." He gestured with his hand to go ahead and speak, and Francis was finding it odd that the boyfriend was leading the meeting. He only came to speak to the dick who yelled at Arthur, not his boyfriend.

"Gladly," he said, trying not to sneer, and locked eyes with Alfred, "Who in the hell do you think you are, Jones? You have the nerve to cheat on Arthur, and when you run into him several months later, you treat him exactly the same as you did when you kicked him out! He's suffered more than you could ever imagine, and you had no reason to-!"

"I did have a reason, actually," Alfred said. He seemed very calm and collected at first glance, but if you looked at him a little more, one could tell that he looked a little sad. Before he could elaborate, he looked over at Ivan and said softly (though Francis could still hear it), "_Vanya_...we're allowed to talk about this, da?"

Ivan knew that Alfred was playing the Russian card to butter him up, since he knew how much he loved it whenever the American spoke in Russian to him, but he was smart enough to understand that things would be said that neither wanted to hear. He was asking his permission to say things that would be hard to take, even if they were lovers. Ivan nodded after a minute, hoping that he wouldn't regret allowing him to talk about the hard stuff.

Alfred went back to speaking, "This whole damn story is kind of confusing, so I'll just start at the beginning, okay?"

Francis nodded, still maintaining a glare.

"I have never disliked Arthur. Never. I couldn't hate somebody who I've been in love with for four years. Hell, I still have some sort of feeling for him."

"Then why..." Francis looked over at Ivan and back to Alfred, "...why did you cheat on him if you loved him?!"

Running his fingers through his hair, Alfred sighed, "It was hard." Looking to his Russian boyfriend, he continued, "I liked Ivan as well, I had known him since Arthur used to work with him, and I didn't want to betray Arthur. But, eventually, Ivan's mere existence was driving me mad, he was haunting my dreams." Ivan smirked with delight at hearing that sentence. Alfred had never really told him he had such a big impact on him.

"I called him up once, and long story short, we had a bit of a fling. I had only intended it to be some sort of one-night stand. Just to have sex with him and get him out of my mind. And it didn't go according to plan..." The American gave the Russian and apologetic glance, to which Ivan only shrugged off, "With Arthur, we had a formal relationship. You know; friendship, fainted feelings, confession, then love...anyways, but with Ivan, it was instant. We didn't need the easy feelings of a developing relationship, we had to have each other then and now."

Francis could understand that, that was kind of like his feelings towards Arthur. Yet, "Then if you knew you 'had to have' Ivan, then why didn't you break up with Arthur cleanly? You proposed to him, and that just made things worse!"

Alfred nodded, "I know, but I still loved him. I had spent almost three years with him, and I was worried about throwing him aside for Ivan, whom I had slept with only once." Ivan looked clearly unamused. "You see?"

With a nod from the Frenchman, Alfred went on, "That led to the cheating. I still wanted to be around Arthur, as I loved him as a human being; but at the same time, I loved Ivan for the sex, I don't know why...but I just loved the sex between us better than Arthur."

Francis raised an eyebrow, thinking in his head, 'That's because, idiot, that he's a larger man like you. Obviously he'd be better in bed by your standards.'

By now, Ivan looked a little irritated or even upset by all this. He was regretting allowing Alfred to talk about this. He loved the fool, but he could just be so ignorantly blunt. Saying that he only loved him for the sex was making him sound like Alfred's bitch.

Alfred smiled at the Russian, "But, I grew to love him as a person as well. I called myself an idiot for only thinking that I loved him as a bedmate." He seemed to look a little happier about that. "Then...we had a fight..." both males frowned sadly. "I won't go into the details, but I thought for sure that we were over with. So, in order to establish that I was trying to atone for lying to Arthur..."

Francis finished, looking a little bewildered, "...you proposed to him." Well, now it made sense. Though it was a stupid choice in the long run, it was understandable as to why he did it.

"But obviously...we resolved our conflict and got back together. And three months after we made amends, Arthur had gone to work for the day. I had called in sick, and so did Ivan. We wanted to see each other again, and we were about to have sex whenever Arthur came home early and heard us in the bedroom. And I'm pretty sure he told you about that."

"I'd like to hear your side to the story. You've already opened my eyes a little more."

"Oh really?"

"You're still a dick and an idiot though."

"Yeah, I know. So, I knew I had to do something. It wasn't like I was falling out of love with Arthur, but I was coming to realize that I wanted Ivan more than him. So, I split it off with him...not in the nicest way possible, but I just couldn't do anything else..." Alfred sighed, "And when he came back a few hours later..."

Francis snarled, "_That_ is what I've been waiting to hear the explanation for."

"Well, after Arthur ran off, Ivan and I talked for a little while..." Alfred started. Ivan stood up and walked away from the table to lean against the wall, causing Alfred to look dejected. He sighed, "I was crying my eyes out about it. I was leaning into the man I had just chosen over my ex fiancé, and wailing that I didn't want to hurt him, but then Ivan..."

Ivan interrupted him, "I told him that he had made his choice, and it was stupid to cry over it." Alfred didn't reply, merely giving a sad pout into the table. The Russian continued, "I know I sound harsh, but imagine knowing that you're the other man for a year. Having to slip out secretly and meet the one you love, it wasn't fair. I wanted _Fredka_ all to myself. And I knew I was making him happier than Arthur ever could. I had grown tired of Arthur keeping him occupied, restricting everything we could do. Understand?"

Alfred sighed, and Francis nodded. Reasonable.

"I wasn't going to force him to forget all about him, but I hated the fact that Arthur was still imprinted in him. Alfred would sometimes cling to me whenever we were sleeping and whisper stuff, apologize for hurting Arthur as if I was him. I hated that he was making him sad."

"Arthur's suffered too...the very thought of Alfred was tormenting him, tried to hold him back..."

_"I should really take it off...it's not right to-"_

_"There's no need to feel guilty about anything, Arthur. The betrayal wasn't your own."_

"...And it was Alfred whom caused the problem to begin with. No offense." Alfred shook his head, not minding. It was clear to the Frenchman that he had already accepted that his mistakes could not be erased or forgotten.

Ivan frowned, "I know you're dating him now, so I'll ask you to pardon what I say. I hadn't given much consideration to what Arthur's life was like; and I hadn't even expected to see him whenever I was heading out into town. But, when I did...I just let whatever I wanted come out of my mouth. Though he was the one who was much ruder; accusing me of seducing Alfred away from him."

Alfred blinked, "You spoke to him on the streets before we saw him again?"

Ivan nodded, "Maybe a month ago."

Francis simply sat there and processed everything that had been discussed. Although he still wasn't big on Alfred and Ivan hurting his beloved Arthur, they had reasons for their actions. Logical reasons, and he wouldn't lie to say that he wouldn't have done the same in their situation. Feelings and love were twisted, and it was a rough game to play. And even if all of the this was pretty much Alfred's fault, he found himself unable to hate him; a level of toleration and understanding kept him only at a dislike. He wasn't some wicked villain out to torment Arthur, he was a man who had made some crucial mistakes in his relationships with Ivan and Arthur.

Ivan then looked up, "But Francis, you said that Arthur had suffered as well...what was that about?"

He was quite surprised that it was Ivan who asked the question, but Alfred perked up, interested.

Francis sighed, "Since he got fired and lost everything after he was kicked out, Arthur had next to nothing left to live off of. His older brother took him in, but he ended up taking the responsibility to pay the rent, and couldn't get a job to support him. He started begging on the streets."

Alfred and Ivan's eyes grew wide with shock; and before Alfred could even say two words, Francis interjected, "It gets worse." With a grave look, he went on, "He had no other options, so he turned to working at the Underbog."

"Arthur was a-?!"

"Yeah, a whore. For three months; and he worked for Matthias Koehler as his personal toy. It wasn't until I found him unconscious in an alleyway that he was free from it all." Well, there was whenever he ran away, but Alfred and Ivan didn't need to know about that.

Hissing in disgust, Alfred growled, "Matthias...I never thought he'd actually accomplish something like that." The two men fell silent to take everything in, and after several minutes, Alfred said, "Is there anything I can do...?"

Francis stood from the table and spoke, "Just don't cause Arthur anymore pain than he's already been through. That's it."

Alfred nodded, "Sure."

Francis smirked, "You two make a good duo. If our circumstances had been different, I may have been friends with you two." He shrugged and turned to walk out, "But, I won't intrude on your lives anymore than I already have. Have a go-"

"Wait, Francis!" Alfred said, standing up.

Francis turned back, "_Oui_?"

Ivan looked over to his American boyfriend curiously, and Alfred said, "There's just one thing I wanted to ask of you..."

* * *

**Thanks for Reading! Tell me what you think~! :)**


	14. The Happy Ending for Us All

**Author's Note: **Finally~! The ending to "Save Me From December"! A huge thanks to everyone who followed, favorited, and reviewed the story! I wish I could give all of you some internet cookies or a hug or something...

**Chapter Song: **"Cool" by Gwen Stefani

* * *

Francis burst back through the apartment door, a carton of milk in hand, calling a "hello" to Arthur, who had nearly finished placing the thousands of photos in albums. Arthur looked up and sighed, "Francis, normal people don't go off to the store for two and a half hours to get a carton of milk when there's already a full thing in the fridge."

Francis pulled the fridge open and protested, "There waaaas? No way!"

Nearly chuckling, he replied, "You're such a bloody liar." He sighed, "I hope you were doing something productive, like I was."

Placing the carton of milk in the fridge and closing the door again, Francis stepped into the living room and leaned over the chair that Arthur was sitting in, "You put all those photos into the books?"

Arthur nodded, "I figured that you'd never get around to them, and since I had no entertainment for two and a half hours, I decided to work on this."

Giving a chaste kiss to Arthur, Francis thanked him and sat down in the same chair beside him, resting his head on his shoulder. Watching Francis doze off was interesting for about ten minutes, and by the time he had grown bored of the activity, the phone rang from the wall by the kitchen. Arthur thought he noticed Francis twitch in his sleep, and mutter something like "answer" quietly. The Brit assumed that Francis wasn't entirely engulfed in sleep, but wanted Arthur to get the phone in his place.

Standing up and stretching his back, he made his way over to their house phone before plucking it off it's rest and hitting the green talk button. Little did he know that Francis had awoken back up and was waiting to hear conversation. Arthur asked into the speaker, "Hello?"

"Arthur?"

At once, Arthur's eyes widened and he gripped the phone tighter than his casual hold. He snarled, "What do you want from me? Why did you call here? _How did you even get this numb-_?" He suddenly looked over at Francis, who was peeking out from behind the chair, and shot him a dirty look. So that's what the damn Frenchman was doing for two hours!

"Look, Francis came over and talked to me and Ivan for a little bit. I want to talk to you, though."

"Sod off and leave me alone! We have nothing to talk about!"

"Iggy..." Oh fuck him! Using that stupid nickname he gave him once! Arthur, though, couldn't stop his cheeks from flushing into a bright pink.

Through bared teeth, he growled, "What?"

"Please can't we talk somewhere?"

"Why? So you can just yell at me again like you always do?"

"No...it's just...Francis told me some things, and..."

"Yes?"

"Well...I...um..."

"You have no idea what you're getting at, do you?"

"Iggy, it's hard! My words never come out right!"

"That's the cold hard truth, Alfred."

"Please! I'll never bother you again if you just let me speak to you for a little bit!"

Letting out a long sigh and leaning against the wall, Arthur finally caved. Though he really didn't want to speak to Alfred, he'd much rather speak to him now and have him leave him alone for the rest of eternity than having to deal with this situation later on. "Fine, fine. Where did you have in mind?"

"There's this secluded cafe halfway in between us, how about there?"

"Fine I guess. What time do you want us to be there?"

"Us?"

"I'm not allowed to bring Francis along?" He intended to use that walking time to ask why he had bothered going to see Alfred and Ivan, and how he had come to the conclusion that they were causing him some kind of problem.

"Well...you can...but I wanted to just talk you one-on-one."

"Oh. Well, then he can entertain himself by talking to Ivan, since he likes going over to talk to the two of you without my knowing."

"Ohhh, he snuck over to our place while you were asleep?"

"Yeah, it's not nice to wake up to a note that says you're going to milk for a couple hours." He had no idea why he was telling this to his ex, but he figured that he'd just roll with whatever came out of his mouth.

"Milk? That was the best excuse he could have come up with?"

"Apparently. But he did bring back a carton of milk despite the lie."

"Well, anyway, why don't you meet us there at two forty-five?"

Looking over at the clock and saw that it was ticking away at one-thirty, he replied, "Sounds fine, I'll be there."

"Cool. And Iggy...?"

"Hm?"

"I think...ah...never mind. I'll tell you when you get to the cafe..."

"Um, okay. Goodbye, Alfred."

"Goodbye."

The line went off and Arthur hung up the phone, shooting another glare at Francis, who squeaked and attempted to hide behind the chair. Walking briskly to the chair, Arthur crossed his arms atop the back and looked down at Francis, who was worming his way off the chair and towards the floor.

Giving a long sigh, Arthur said, "Am I going to get my explanation now, or during the walk to the cafe?"

Francis frowned, "I knew something had been bothering you for the past few days, and I hated seeing you so upset so..."

"Let me guess, you called your friends, and the three of you miraculously figured out that the people at the store were Alfred and Ivan?"

"_Oui_...and Gilbert gave me Alfred's cell phone number, so I talked to Ivan, and he invited me over. Alfred and Ivan told me their perspective of the story..."

"And just because they may have been more innocent than I made them out to be means that they're just off the hook for what Alfred did?"

Francis protested, "You'd have to hear it from him, Artie."

"Well, I'll get to do that in an hour and fifteen minutes."

Slowly standing back up, and pushing his knee into the chair to keep him steady on the armchair, Francis came up close to the Brit and spoke softly, "Don't treat him too harshly, okay? I'd like this to be put behind us once it's over."

Arthur gave a small smile and exhaled, "You're not the only one." Leaning into the back of the chair, he caught Francis's lips in a kiss, but the two silently decided against using tongue. They had to be heading out of the building in twenty minutes, and they couldn't show up disheveled. It'd be improper and frankly embarrassing.

* * *

The walk to the cafe was somewhat pleasant, but would be more so if Arthur wasn't going to see Alfred. Francis was polite enough to refrain speaking about the ex; though he had several questions he wanted to voice. Another time, another place perhaps. Instead, the two spoke about trivial things, such as dinner options and Francis thanked Arthur again for organizing his seemingly never ending photo collection.

They had finally decided stopped on Chicken Alfredo as the choice for dinner whenever they reached the cafe, with Ivan and Alfred waiting outside for them.

Francis hissed in Arthur's ear, "You never said that I was going to stand outside and be forced to mingle with Ivan!"

Arthur gave a mischievous smirk, "Oh, and what's so bad about that? If you can speak to him for several hours without me knowing about it, you can certainly hold a conversation with him for about thirty or so minutes."

Though he gave a pout, Francis didn't say another word. Arthur instead looked over to Alfred and gestured to the door, "Are we talking or not?"

Alfred nodded, and pulled the door open, allowing him and Arthur to step inside the cafe. The place was filled with couples talking to one another and people using their laptops (why did they always seem to gather at cafes?); so there was plenty of noise to keep them safe of eyes and ears being drawn to during their conversation.

Taking a seat across from each other, the two former lovers exchanged a somewhat awkward glance, before Arthur said harshly, "Go on. What do you want to say to me?"

Alfred pouted, "You're not exactly making this very easy for me."

"And? I have no reason not to." Narrowing his eyes, he frowned, "You cheated on me, and now Francis heard whatever story you and Ivan have and suddenly everything's all better? Francis went easy on you, Alfred. I will not."

Protesting, the American said, "I didn't want to hurt you Arthur! I hated cheating on you, it was the hardest thing I ever had to do!"

"Oh spare the rubbish, Alfred, don't lie to me!"

"I'm not lying! _I hated it!_ For the whole year the guilt wouldn't leave me alone...!"

Arthur blinked out of surprise whenever he saw Alfred looked genuinely upset. Taking a moment to calm himself down, he let out a sigh and said, "I'm sorry..." Making eye contact with Alfred, he replied smoothly, "Tell me your side of the story, I'll try not to interrupt you."

Giving a nod, Alfred started the story.

* * *

It took a twenty minute explanation, and by the end of it, Arthur felt a little guilty about immediately yelling at his ex whenever he tried to talk to him. But, at the same time, "I understand some of your choices...yet; you lied to me, you wouldn't even allow me to retrieve my belongings and money, and your rudeness at the convenience store was inexcusable. I'm not going to forgive you easily for those things."

Alfred sighed, "I understand. I'm so sorry Arthur."

"I'm sure you must be."

Burying his face in his hands, he said, "I've just fucked up your life so much. I hate what I've done...it's my fault you begged on the streets, began working as a whore, everything..."

Arthur was somewhat shocked by his response, and gave a small sympathetic frown, "No...those things weren't all your fault, Al. It was my own choice to work at the Underbog, it wasn't yours."

With a melancholy laugh, Alfred responded, "I know you're just saying that 'cause I look like I'm gonna cry or something...you probably want me to atone, don't you?"

Arthur leaned across the table to rest his palm on Alfred's fist, "I don't. In all honesty, I don't want you to feel like you should go back in time and try to fix anything."

"You...don't?"

The Brit smirked slightly, "No, you git. If you didn't cheat on me, I wouldn't have entered some kind of depression and gotten myself a little addicted to drugs. If you hadn't kicked me out of the apartment without anything to my name, I wouldn't have joined the Underbog to begin with. If those thing hadn't happened to me, I would never passed out in the alleyway when a whore gave me some drugs...and Francis would have never found me."

Alfred blinked, and slowly but surely, understanding dawned on his features.

Arthur smile broadened, "It's funny...all these bad things happened to me, and yet they led me to the person I love." Resting a hand under his cheek, he asked sincerely, "I don't want you to feel like you owe me something, because I'm happy now, Alfred. I've found the person who I want to be with, and I'd rather see us peacefully separate and have all this mess behind us, rather than have the overbearing thought of our regrets. I'd rather see you be happy with Ivan than trying to make up for everything you did to me."

Alfred nodded, "Okay..."

"I'll only say this one thing: don't make that same mistake again with Ivan. He looks like he'd run you over with a bulldozer if you tried anything on him."

Exchanging a laugh, the two men gave each other a genuine smile and stood up from their table to head towards the door. Alfred nodded, "Yeah, he doesn't like to do anything halfway."

"I suppose he really does care for you then, doesn't he?"

Giving a sheepish nod, he countered, "I'm pretty sure Francis is the same way, though. Right?"

Arthur nodded back, "He is. The oaf cares for me too much beyond his own good." Chuckling, he added, "But I don't complain too much about it."

Pushing open the door, the two broke up the somewhat fractured conversation that Francis and Ivan were having, and the two turned to look at their respective partners before looking at the man standing with them.

Francis asked, "So...is everything alright between the two of you?"

The two looked at each other and gave a short nod of the head, before Arthur extended his hand to shake Alfred's. The American apparently wasn't going to be happy with just that, so he grasped onto Arthur's hand and pulled him in for a hug. Hissing "git" in his ear, the Brit hugged him back before letting himself out of the hold and stepped back towards Francis.

Alfred stepped towards Ivan, and the two exchanged a quick glance before turning back to Arthur. Alfred smiled, "Thanks for agreeing to this..."

Arthur shrugged, "It's no problem." With a slight smirk he added, "Will you please get lost now?"

With a stroke of faux sadness, Alfred wailed, "So mean Iggy...!" But, nevertheless, the two waved and headed down the street away from them.

Francis and Arthur gave each other a small hug, and Francis smiled, "It's finally over isn't it?"

Arthur nodded, "What's done is done. I'm tired of dwelling in the past. It's exhausting."

The Frenchman laughed, "Same here." Playing with several strands of Arthur's choppy hair, he asked, "Everything alright?"

Arthur smiled back, "Everything's perfect. Nothing could spoil it, not a thing."

Exchanging a lusty kiss, there was a sudden call of "Hey! Will you two stop sucking face and hurry up already?!" Looking up the slow sloping of the road, there were four figures standing with their backs to the afternoon sun.

Arthur's smile fell and his shoulders slacked, "Except for _that_..." Glaring at Francis, he growled, "Why do you feel the need to keep Gilbert and Antonio updated with everything that we do?"

Nevertheless, the Frenchman pushed the Englishman up the road towards the quartet, all while saying, "Gilbert wouldn't leave me alone after I asked him for Alfred's number, and I felt bad we abandoned Antonio from the conversation..." Winking, he added, "And, you're officially an equal to Lovi and Matt."

Arthur snapped, "I don't care about any of that, even if Lovino and Matthew are nice! Why do I have to get dragged into every little thing that you and your friends want to do?"

"Because that's how it works in the group. Don't worry, Lovino was like that for a while, but he got used to it..." Once they were close enough to the four others, Francis smiled, "Sorry to make you walk all this way."

Antonio grinned, "It's not a problem, Francy."

Gilbert smirked, "Please tell me that somebody killed somebody!"

Francis sighed, "Why do you always jump to these kind of conclusions?"

Meanwhile, Arthur was speaking to Lovino and Matthew, who were also blocking out the bad friends. Lovino asked, "So, that bastard's paying for all he did?"

Arthur scratched the back of his head, "Ehh...not really. I listened to what he had to say and we came to an understanding."

Matthew smiled, "Thats good too, I suppose."

Before anything else could be said, Gilbert slung his arm over Matthew's shoulder and said to the group, "Since now everything is all worked out, can we got to the bar? I'm parched!"

Antonio chuckled, "Can't we just walk off into the mid afternoon sun like the people get to the do in the movies once they have a happy ending?" Lovino looked at his boyfriend as if he had lost his mind, and Matthew giggled.

Gilbert sighed, "Fine, but we're doing what I wanna do later on, okay?"

And somehow, the six men walked through the city with the sun lighting their way, Francis and Arthur both silently thinking of some kind of excuse they could use to ditch the others to go back to their apartment together. They had just found true happiness again, and although spending this time with friends would be fun, just the two of them alone together would be even better.

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**Thanks for Reading~! :) **


	15. Omake

**Author's Note: **A little treat for my readers. Enjoy~! :D

**Song: **"Bittersweet" by Panic! At the Disco

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Hanging up one of the shirts on the hook of the dressing room, Arthur glared over at the Frenchman who was giving him a perverted grin. Arthur was aware that Francis was enjoying the fact that his British lover was topless; although, the Brit wasn't sure why he persisted in sharing a dressing room as there were plenty of open ones. He had given Arthur the puppy dog pout and said, "Someone else may want to use one, and we've seen each other naked so it's not like it's a problem, right?"

So, he couldn't find the heart to tell him no, so they were trying on clothes together in a dressing room in some store at the Rockefeller Plaza. However, it was becoming incredibly obvious that Francis probably wasn't interested in anything he tried on...he just needed some excuse to look at Arthur's torso for an extended period of time. Even if some scars and the word "Koehler" could still be seen on his chest, Francis was enjoying the view immensely. The perverted bastard.

Licking his lips subtly, he watched out of the corner of his eye to see Arthur picking up a plaid shirt he was planning on trying on and held it up to his chest before returning it to the hook. A wondrous opportunity was just dangling in front of his face. Oh, how could he resist?

Trying to step quietly, he tiptoed over to his lover, and seized his shoulders. Francis pushed Arthur against the wall of the dressing room, and he grinned as the Englishman's eyes widened up. As he processed what the Frenchman was probably thinking, he hissed (they were in a store and a public changing room at that), "What the hell?! You're horny NOW?"

Francis smirked, "Oui! And you showing off that chest of yours is not helping!"

Arthur screeched as quietly as he could manage, "You can wait until we get home! We're in a fucking store! People could hear us!"

Francis leaned in, pressing his hips against Arthur's, "C'mon, we can be quiet..."

Arthur shook his head, "No! No! No! You're not banging me in here!" His cheeks were crimson by now.

Francis's lips could be felt on his neck, trying to pull on the skin. Damn that fucking French wanker! He couldn't have waited until the two of them got back home?! Why does he have to be so damn irresistible and all hot and bothered at the weirdest at times? Even if it felt good, he attempted protesting, "Get the fuck off me! We can have sex when we get home!"

Francis still didn't listen, his hands were moving and they trailed below his hips to rest on his ass, "Francis...! God damn you and your fucking hormones!"

Francis giggled, "You love that 'f' word, don't you?"

Arthur growled, his cheeks growing redder, "I'll kill you until you-!"

Suddenly, a pair of hands gripped the top dressing room next to them, and a familiar albino sprung up to look at the couple, "Hey! Can you two shut the hell up? If you're going to have sex in the stall, you could at least be quiet about it!"

Francis and Arthur started screaming, and they suddenly remembered that they were in a store, so they clamped a palm over each other's mouths. Francis removed the Brit's hand once he saw that it was Gil, and hissed, "Are you trying to give me a heart attack? You scared the hell out of us!"

Gilbert grinned, "No, I'm attempting to suck off Matthew, and I can't exactly do it with Arthur screaming like a bitch over here." And to prove Gil's statement true, there was a small whimper (or moan?) of "Maple..." from the dressing room that Gil was currently in.

Arthur snapped, "That's disgusting!"

Gilbert raised an eyebrow, "Well, you two were about to bang. And please don't let me keep you waiting. I currently have a cute Canadian's dick to lick."

Suddenly a pair of hands appeared on the other side of Arthur and Francis's stall, and a pair of irritated green eyes accompanied by shaggy brown hair appeared. He spoke, "Could you three shut up? Lovi's trying to sleep over here!"

The three of them screamed, until Francis blinked away his initial shock and said, "Toni...?! Wait...does that mean you and Lovino...?"

Antonio grinned, "We already did." he looked down - presumably at his Italian boyfriend - and chuckled, "Poor thing's exhausted from it all."

Arthur growled, "The lot of you are gross!" He pointed at Francis and snapped, "-And you! You're not getting any right now so you can just get off me!" The Frenchman sighed and removed himself from the man, giving him some space. "Thank you...now that that's taken care of-"

Another pair of hands appeared at the front of the stall, and a female hoisted herself over the door to stare at the four men. Her green eyes were curious and her face was held in a pout, "Look you four, I know you guys have your urges, but I can't be allowing you to have sex in the stalls," she glared over at Antonio, who gave her a sheepish smile as an apology. "Paying customers have to use them, and what am I supposed to say whenever someone finds some cum in the corner of their stall?"

Gilbert smirked, "I'm sorry Eliza, we don't mean to embarrass you with our urges. But seriously though, can't you relax a little, you uptight bitch?"

Elizaveta glared, "Shut the fuck up, you motherfucking asshole."

She looked back to Francis and Arthur, "Sorry about the language and forcing you two apart. I ship the hell out you two, but the stalls have to stay clean."

Arthur raised an eyebrow, "Ship...?"

Francis blinked, "What're you talking about?"

Elizaveta sighed, "You know! Like shipping? I love the two of you together, so I ship you!"

Francis and Arthur exchanged a glance and the Brit spoke, "I don't get it."

Francis added, "Doesn't that have to do with those cartoons...?"

Elizaveta corrected, "Anime!"

The two men held their hands up, "Sorry, sorry."

Gilbert rolled his eyes, "I don't understand it at all. It seems dumb to me."

Antonio nodded, "Why would a bunch of girls waste their time fawning over fictional characters that are unnaturally gorgeous? That sounds like something to waste one's life on."

Elizaveta shouted, "Non-believers! One day you'll understand!"

All of the males, including Matthew whom just joined Gilbert at leaning on the side of the dressing room, spoke, "Understand what?"

Suddenly, there was a cry of, "Ahhh! Veeeh, Ludiii!" followed by a quiet but hearable, "Feli, shh!"

Elizaveta immediately ran over to the dressing room on the other side of the small area and yelled, "STOP HAVING SEX IN THE DRESSING ROOMS!"

Francis and Arthur tried to shush her, while Gilbert was congratulating his little brother on being such a stud and Lovino (who miraculously woke up) was yelling for his younger brother to stop letting himself be defiled by the potato-bastard, and Matthew and Antonio were trying to calm down their respective partners.

It was a good thing that no-one else was in the store during this time, well, except two more familiar faces.

The tall blonde with glasses looked over to his taller beige-blonde counterpart who was looking in the direction of the dressing rooms.

Alfred sighed, "We know some really weird people, don't we?"

Ivan smiled and gave a small nod, "Da."

Alfred put back the pair of pants he was looking at, and said, "Hey, before we leave the Plaza, can we get a new bottle of Hershey's Syrup?"

Ivan groaned, "I have never seen you drink one glass of chocolate milk. Why do you always go through the syrup so quickly?"

Alfred protested, "Because milk dulls the flavor! Chocolate straight from the bottle always taste the best!"

The Russian sighed, "Fine, I'll buy a new bottle, but your ass is going to get larger if you don't stop drinking those things down all the time."

Alfred grinned, "You know you love my ass. C'mon, I'll buy you a bottle of vodka if you buy me a bottle of chocolate syrup."

They began walking out of the store, and Ivan gave a cute smile, replying, "Deal."

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**I love you all~! Thanks so much for Reading! :D**


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